Light and Darkness
by Daughter of Night
Summary: [Chapters 12 to 14 posted] The sequel to Awakening, and my continuation of the books. What if Mother Night was an actual entity, not an expression?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop. 

Dedication: For Raksha, who decided I should write it! 

A/N: This is the sequel to Awakening. It's not necessary to have read it, but it might make this easier to understand.   
Enjoy! 

  


  


**Prologue**

  


The Mother dreamed. 

She dreamed of the three Realms and Her children, of fertile lands and peaceful hearts. She dreamed of sun and rain, of laughter and of tears. 

These dreams were reflections of the world above Her. 

She dreamed of Her daughters, of their happiness. 

These dreams were wishes of Her heart, through Her power reaching into the physical world and easing the troubles of heart and mind. 

Her lips curved into a small smile as She saw Her youngest daughter grasp her husband's hand, placing it on her stomach. 

A melancholy pleasure claimed Her as She turned Her dreams elsewhere, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. She would have a grandchild, a new little one to love. Another child She could never hold or acknowledge. 

Her deep sigh filled the void around Her as She tried to sink deeper into the world of dreams. Tried to sink so deep that the present was overshadowed by the past, that the past was obliterated by the ancient memories of Her youth. Memories from before She became the ominous being Her kind feared more than anything. Memories from a time when She had a name. 

_A name can be regained._

She shivered with the thought; uncertain if what She felt was fear or anticipation. 

_A life can be reclaimed._

The emotion that rose in Her was only too familiar. Hope. She crushed it ruthlessly. 

_My time has passed,_ She told Herself sternly. _I made my choice long before Draca made the Blood. What might have been will never be more than a dream. A pleasant dream, perhaps, but still a dream._

_And what else is there for you now?_ that inner voice replied, mockingly. _What have you become if not a dreamer?_

_I…_ She hesitated. _I am still the Mother. I am still the Night, its creator and its child._

_Yes,_ the voice agreed. _But can you remember_ who _you are?_

For a moment, there was only silence. A stillness only found in long forgotten tombs, where even the souls of the buried no longer come. A silence that settled around Her like a cloak, shielding Her. Not from physical chill, but from the cold dread of realization. 

_How could you know?_ the voice pressed on. _How could you know yourself when you don't know your name?_

The stillness shattered. A wordless cry of anguish tore through the void, filled the Abyss with Her pain and loss. Shards of the broken silence rained down over Her like pieces of glass. Glittering as they fell, so sharp She barely felt them as they sliced Her skin. 

A small part of Her mind watched in fascination as blood welled from the cuts, painting Her pale body with patterns of crimson and pooling around Her feet. As She drew breath, Her nostrils filled with the scent of it. She closed Her eyes and recalled how the blood of Her prey used to taste as She sank Her teeth into their flesh. 

_But you can't remember your name, can you?_ the voice taunted. 

The second cry was as wordless as the first. It was a cry of overwhelming loneliness, of sorrow too deep to hold inside. It was a plea for understanding, maybe even for pity. 

In the pain-filled Abyss, the cry had nowhere to go but up. 

The first cry had been unsettling even for the light-Jeweled Blood, but it had still been a thing of the Abyss. The second cry rose higher and higher, spilling into the physical world, echoing through the three Realms and moving landens to tears. 

********************************** 

In the depths of Lorn's lair, Draca shared a knowing glance with her former Consort. They alone understood who was crying, and why. 

*There isss nothing you can do,* Lorn said carefully. *Not even you can reach that deep.* 

Draca allowed herself a small smile. 

"No one hasss the Jeweled ssstrength to reach Her," she agreed, "but there are other waysss, other powersss that will ssserve me better." 

She sank to her knees and closed her eyes. Reaching deep within herself - not into the Abyss, but into her heart - she sought the ancient connection between daughter and mother. The bond of love and caring that had held through the ages. It had aided her before. 

She would not let it fail now. 

********************************** 

As the cries faded into silence, She felt a light tug at Her heart. 

Distracted from Her own pain She searched for the source of the delicate sensation. Cautiously, hesitantly, She opened up to the insistent calling. 

*Mother.* 

*Draca?* She sent back. *I can't remember…* 

*You don't need to be alone. The Realmsss would welcome you again.* 

There was a moment of silence as She contemplated this. 

*If I came… Who would they see?* 

*They sssaw Jaenelle and Witch. They loved both.* She didn't need to see Draca's smile to know it was there. *Are you so sscertain you need to choose?* 

When only silence followed her words, Draca sighed. *Come to the Hall, Mother. Give them a chance to see who you are.* 

Just as She reached to close the link, She heard a final word drift down. It filled Her with warmth, made Her gently push Draca back up to the physical world before retreating to the bottom of the Abyss. 

She lay back on the smooth black stone, movements languid, eyes half-closed in contentment. The word still a pleasure in Her mind. 

A word, but more than a word. 

A blessing. 

A name. 

Savoring each syllable, She spoke the word aloud. 

"Yssandra." 

  


********************************** 

A/N #2: So what did you think? Just click that "Go" button and let me know! 


	2. Chapter one

  


Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop. 

A/N: I have tried to stay as close to the books as possible. If there is anything you think is wrong or just plain stupid, let me know, and I'll either change it or explain it.   
A big **THANK YOU** to everyone who reviewed! You make me all tingly with happiness!   
Without further ranting from me; here is the first chapter. Enjoy! 

  


  


**Chapter one**

  


Saetan sipped his yarbarah contentedly. As much as he loved his grandson, Daemonar was a handful. With the young Eyrien visiting at the Hall Saetan had found these quiet evenings at the Keep to be restorative. 

*When he'sss grown you'll misss the little troublemaker.* 

Saetan smiled, not surprised that Lorn had heard his thoughts. And if the amusement in the dragon's voice was anything to go by, he wasn't upset about his lair being used as a hideaway. 

"True," Saetan admitted. "But with Jaenelle expecting, I'm certain we'll get all the trouble we can handle." 

*And more isss coming.* Lorn's voice was wary, his eyes fixed upon the stairs. 

Saetan turned to find a black-haired woman leaning casually against the wall. Against the black of her clothes her skin was as ghostly pale as Geoffrey's. Sunglasses hid her eyes. 

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Her deep, resonant voice held a hint of uncertainty. "I am here on my daughter's invitation." 

Lorn blinked in surprise, his tension fading. 

*Then I bid you welcome, Lady.* 

She smiled faintly and pushed away from the wall, coming closer. She halted a few feet from the two males and looked at Saetan. Her smile turned mischievous. 

"Actually, I was invited to the Hall, but since its owner fled the place I thought it better to come here first." She tilted her head to one side as she studied Lorn, apparently listening to some thought he sent her privately. Whatever he said made her chuckle. "I don't see the need to keep secrets from the Caretaker. Don't you think that a son of your soul can handle those truths?" 

*I merely pointed out a fact, Lady,* Lorn retorted dryly, once again allowing Saetan to hear him. 

The woman laughed again. "Sure you did, and since he's male he'll take your side." The mirth faded from her face as she turned to fully face Lorn. She reached up to remove her glasses and hooked them in the neckline of her top. "I came here hoping we could make peace with each other." 

*Peace?* The dragon couldn't have looked or sounded more surprised if the entire Keep had disappeared from above him. 

"I haven't been easy on you, I know that, but you love Draca. You chose to stay with her rather than succumb to the sleep of your kind. I think it's time I acknowledged that and stopped seeing you as one of them." 

While Lorn seemed to think her words over, Saetan drained his glass of yarbarah. His head was spinning. He had first assumed the strange woman was of Geoffrey's race, but she wasn't a Guardian. In fact, he couldn't detect a psychic scent at all. She felt like a landen, but no landen could hear the broadcasted thoughts of the Blood. How could she know so much about the dragons? And why was her opinion of Lorn matter to him? 

*Perhapsss I haven't made it easssy for you either,* Lorn said. *We should have reached out sssooner, let you know that you were welcome here.* 

The woman smiled in relief. She closed the distance between them and placed one hand on Lorn's forehead, between his eyes. A tremble ran through her and she closed her eyes for a moment. 

"I had almost forgotten…" she whispered. "It's been too long since I've lived among you…" 

Stepping back, she slipped her sunglasses on before turning to Saetan. Even with her eyes hidden he felt a brief unease under the weight of her gaze. 

"You're Jaenelle's father," she said, her tone making it a statement rather than a question. Saetan nodded anyway as he rose from his chair. Extending his hands in formal greeting he started to introduced himself. 

"Saetan Sa- " 

"I know who you are." The woman glided across the floor and slipped her hands under his. She pressed upward, letting him know she did not consider herself inferior to him. Her nails dented the skin at his wrists but didn't draw blood. _Not yet,_ Saetan thought to himself. 

"I am Yssandra," she continued as she pulled her hands back. "Do you know me?" 

Saetan frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Lady, but I don't remember meeting you before." 

The corners of her mouth twitched. He felt a wave of amusement sweep through him, an amusement not his own. _Hell's fire, how did she do that?_

"I called you the Caretaker. Do you recognize the title, or has it faded from memory as my name did?" 

*It hasss been forgotten,* Lorn interjected. *He isss called the High Lord.* 

Yssandra waved her hand dismissively. "I have no need for human titles. If I am the only one to name him true, then it is even more important that I do so." A note of urgency crept into her voice and she shook her head as if to clear it. "But that is not why I wanted to see you." She sighed lightly. "My daughter invited me to the Hall. She wanted me to meet my kin, and possibly make a life for myself among them. But I will not enter your lands without your invitation or at least acceptance. I will not be a cause of strife in Dhemlan." She held up a hand to stall Saetan's objections. "I know the Hall is no longer yours, but you are still the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. You still feel responsible for the land and the people. Therefore, the choice is yours, and only yours." 

"Why would I object to you visiting your family?" Saetan was truly puzzled. As strange as Yssandra seemed, he did not think she would be a threat to anyone. 

Slowly, she reached up to remove her sunglasses. 

*Pleassse, Lady, rethink thisss,* Lorn sent, too agitated to keep the communication private. 

"I cannot do this any other way, Lorn. I will be accepted for what I am or not at all." She let the hand holding the glasses fall to her side and raised her eyes to meet Saetan's. 

If ever he had thought looking into Jaenelle's eyes and finding Witch looking back at him was unsettling, that time was now passed. Yssandra's eyes were pools of darkness, so dark that he couldn't distinguish iris from pupil. They held the darkness of a night sky littered with stars and the deepest shadows in Lorn's lair, where no light ever reached. They were darker than Ebony, revealing a hint of the power that could be found at the bottom of the Abyss. 

"Mother Night!" He staggered backwards, fighting desperately to tear his gaze from hers, to free himself from the pull of those eyes. Knowing full well that he would not survive a descent that deep. 

"Quite right." Yssandra slipped the glasses back on. 

Saetan sank down into his chair, his mind reeling, trying to comprehend what she had just told him. 

"Impossible," he whispered hoarsely. 

Yssandra smiled sadly. "The dragons said the same, once." 

A long-stemmed wineglass appeared in her hand, filled with what Saetan suspected was yarbarah. Yssandra laid her other hand against the glass for a moment, then held it out to him. When he hesitantly took it and sipped its content, he found that he was right. What surprised him was that the blood wine was warm. 

"A simple enough trick," Yssandra said, knowing the source of his surprised expression. "The visual flame was of little use, so I merely summoned its heat. If your kind weren't so concerned with how things usually appear, you could do the same." She sighed and headed for the stairs. Stopping at the lowest step, she turned to look at Saetan. 

"Talk to Lorn, think about it; do whatever you need to come to a decision. I will return at dawn." She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. "If you ask me to leave, I will. You need not fear me, Caretaker." 

When she disappeared around the bend in the stairs Saetan drained the glass, fervently wishing it was brandy. Even with the blinding headache the liquor gave him, the dulling of his mind would have been welcome. 

*She meant what she sssaid,* Lorn sent. 

"What?" Saetan was mildly startled by the dragon's voice. 

*If she isss not welcome, she will leave. No matter what my kin sssaid of her, Lady Ysssandra hasss never been one to demand anything. Leassst of all acceptance.* 

Vanishing the glass, Saetan raised his hands. He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers in circles over his temples, trying to soothe his nerves. Meeting Jaenelle, realizing what power she wielded, was nothing compared to this. Witch in her greatest rage had never frightened him the way Yssandra had. And she hadn't even called on any of her power. 

"Why did she ask me for permission? I could do nothing to stop her." Lorn met his eyes patiently, but didn't answer. Saetan tried again. "Why reveal who she is? Would it not have been simpler to hide it?" 

Lorn blinked. *You think you've ssseen who she isss?* He sounded genuinely surprised. *Not even the Lady herssself knowsss that anymore.* 

Silence fell as Saetan contemplated that. 

********************************** 

Yssandra drifted through the Keep, searching for something - _anything_ - to occupy her mind until dawn. Her first impulse had been to find Geoffrey; he had always been a good friend. With a heavy sigh she admitted that it wouldn't be fair to him. She would find consolation in his company, but if she couldn't stay in the Realms it would be cruel to let him think - even for a moment - that she had returned. 

She slipped into the library quietly, a deeper shadow among the numerous ones dancing across the walls. Candles and witchlight illuminated the room, the golden flames of the candles lending a warmer tone to Geoffrey's pale skin. 

Yssandra settled in a corner where she could see his face as he read. 

For the moment, she was content to watch. 

********************************** 

"She never asked to be accepted for _who_ she was, only _what_," Saetan said into the stillness of the lair. In his mind he added, _How deep into despair has she fallen if she no longer sees herself as a 'who'?_

"The daughter she spoke of was Draca, wasn't it?" He barely waited for Lorn's confirmation before continuing. "That night a few weeks ago, the screams… It was her pain we felt. Just like I felt her amusement earlier." 

*Draca almossst didn't reach her. If she had failed, I don't know what would have happened.* 

Saetan swallowed. When Cassandra had faked her own death, he had been brokenhearted. When he thought Jaenelle agreed to have another legal guardian appointed for her, he had thought to end his life. How much worse would Yssandra have felt to be cut off from her family, from a daughter she obviously loved? If he had been feared for his power, how much worse had it not been for her? 

_The real question,_ he mused silently, _is whether or not I have the right to deny anyone to be with their family._

********************************** 

In the east, the night sky had begun to pale. 

Yssandra could feel the dawn pressing in on her. Even though the light of day didn't weaken her as it did Guardians and demon-dead, she was always aware of it. To her, it was a constant remainder that she didn't belong, that she stood apart, that she wasn't welcome. 

Closing her eyes, she faded into the darkness only to emerge in the stairwell only a dozen steps from Lorn's lair. 

She found herself strangely glad that the lair was so deep under ground. If she could not end her exile she would rather not be haunted by the memory of sunlight caressing her skin. 

With a small sound of impatience she beat down the nervousness that wanted to rise. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and entered the lair. 

********************************** 

Saetan was expecting her. He had turned his chair to face the stair, and still it almost seemed like she simply appeared. There was no sound, no psychic scent, no sense of power to alert him of her presence. It was unnerving that such power could be so easily hidden. 

He watched her as she came closer, taking only a dozen steps into the room. There was a determined expression on her face, a tension in her body that bore testament to her unease. He felt better knowing that Lorn was right; she would abide by his decision no matter what it was. 

Clearing his throat, Saetan searched for words. 

"It was no easy question you gave me, Lady," he began cautiously. "As you pointed out, some might object to your presence and some will undoubtedly fear you." 

A wave of sorrow, of hopeless anguish washed over him as Yssandra nodded. When she spoke her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I understand." 

"However, I cannot imagine that you would be a threat to anyone at the Hall. And if you did mean them ill, my decision would mean nothing to you." He smiled as he rose to his feet and walked towards her. Halting a few steps away, he held his hands out in formal greeting. "I am honored to welcome you to Dhemlan, Lady." 

Yssandra's smile filled him with warmth and an exuberant joy that Saetan had never felt before. He dimly remembered Lorn saying something about that Yssandra had trouble containing her emotions whenever she was truly moved, but he had trouble thinking as a feeling of contentment settled around him. 

Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks as Yssandra slipped her hands under his. 

"Call me Yssandra," she said, surprising him. 

"You are welcome, Yssandra." 

Leaning in, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"Thank you." 

  


********************************** 

A/N #2: Please review, whether you liked it or not. I crave feedback!   
Daughter of Night 


	3. Chapter two

  


Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop. 

Thank you to: **Raksha**, **KaratePunk**, **Writer Chickie**, **Lia Langard**, **Argentea**, **Dark Lady of Slytherin** and **Meg the Fierce Lady**. You guys are the best! 

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages! This chapter just wouldn't turn out the way I wanted it to, and I kept rewriting it. Finally, I deleted the whole thing and wrote other (more cooperative) stories. But I promised Raksha to post before school starts again, so here goes... 

  


  


**Chapter two**

  


Yssandra looked up at the Hall. The massive building didn't intimidate her, but she found its architecture fascinating. While she lived in the Realms there was nothing like it, and according to Geoffrey there still wasn't. 

"It's beautiful," she said, more to herself than to her companion. 

"Thank you," Saetan replied, trying not to feel too flattered by her approval. He had agreed to treat Yssandra as he would any dark-Jeweled witch and not with the awe he thought was her due. He saw a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth and once more found himself wondering just how much of his thoughts she could hear. 

"Are you anxious about my meeting with your family, or about how much I can invade your privacy without you knowing it?" Yssandra asked. Her voice was calm, but she tensed as if to brace herself for a blow. 

"My sons are not known for courteous behavior." Saetan smiled slightly. "But at least they're better now than when they were Daemonar's age." 

Yssandra's smile widened. "As politely as you skirted the question, I can guess what you wanted to say. I could listen in on most of your thoughts, but if I passed your innermost barrier you would sense it. I am unused to being physically near others, and I will have to relearn how to block emotions; how to keep mine from you and how to push yours away. Give me a few hours to remember and you won't notice what I'm feeling." She paused and turned to look straight at him. "I will not go where I am not welcome, Caretaker. Your thoughts are safe." 

Saetan nodded; he had expected as much. 

The front door opened, and Ladvarian rushed outside with a loud bark of welcome. The small dog was beside himself with joy, but apparently retained some sense of propriety, for he came to a stumbling halt a couple of feet from Yssandra and Saetan. 

*Lady Mother! We thought you weren't coming!* he exclaimed cheerfully. *After you left Jaenelle with us, we feared you weren't ever coming back.* 

Saetan started at the mention of his adopted daughter. When had she met Yssandra? The answer came as quickly as the question; _When she purged the Blood._

"I didn't think so either, little one," Yssandra said as she knelt and held her arms out. The dog jumped eagerly into her embrace, closing his eyes in bliss as Yssandra caressed his soft fur. "And my name's Yssandra." 

Ladvarian's eyes snapped open and he looked her seriously for nearly a minute before he started practically bouncing in her arms. *The ban has been lifted? I have to tell Kaelas!* 

Yssandra smiled indulgently. "You do that. I'm looking forward to seeing him again. But I need to meet my daughter's family first." 

As soon as she eased her grip, Ladvarian raced back into the mansion. Saetan and Yssandra followed at a more subdued pace. He could sense her unease and halted to look at her expectantly. 

"I was just wondering… How will you introduce me? Will I be Draca's and Jaenelle's mother, or merely an acquaintance?" 

"Is there any point in hiding the truth when the Kindred already knows?" 

"No. But humans have always been – uncomfortable – around me. I would understand if you want to keep them ignorant." She sighed. "The Kindred have been good friends, friends it hurt to loose. Humans have always feared me, desired my power without seeing what comes with it." 

"They won't fear you here, lady. If Jaenelle welcomes you as her mother, they will do the same." Saetan met her eyes calmly, knowing beforehand that there would be no power trying to pull him in. "You have a home here, if you choose to." 

Yssandra smiled at him; a true smile that held as much joy as gratitude. As she relaxed, a tension Saetan hadn't even been aware of until it faded dissipated. 

"I never thought I'd have that," Yssandra whispered as she turned to look at the Hall again. "I've always lived alone, even before I was exiled." She sighed, but not unhappily. "But that is a tale for another time." 

When Saetan resumed walking, she joined him without hesitation; neither falling behind nor hurrying past him. The subtle gesture of equality was not lost on Saetan. In her own way, she was telling him that she felt no need to grovel for acceptance or demean his power. 

As they stepped through the open door, they were met by a slightly crumpled Beale. 

"Welcome home, sir. We were expecting you yesterday," the Warlord said neutrally as he closed the door behind them. 

"Thank you Beale. I'm sorry if I worried the Ladies, but I was held up at the Keep." Saetan turned to Yssandra. "This is our butler, Beale. Beale, I'd like you to meet Lady Yssandra, Draca's and Jaenelle's true mother." 

Beale froze at that; the words of welcome dieing before they let his lips. Yssandra simply smiled and held her hands out. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said politely. When the Warlord returned her greeting the smile grew genuine, filling the hall with warmth. "Has something happened this morning? You look a bit… frazzled." 

"Oh no, Lady, nothing to worry about. Daemonar woke with a bit of a temper, that's all." 

Yssandra gave a throaty chuckle as Saetan winced. "I can't wait to meet him," she said. "It seems he's even worse that Lorn was." 

Before either of the men could respond to that, a high-pitched shriek cut through the air. A young Eyrien boy came flying into the hall, wings working furiously to gain altitude now that he was out of the restricting corridor. Soon after a woman, probably the boy's mother, stalked into the hall, her face tight with anger. 

"Daemonar, get down here," she said sternly. "I'm not chasing you." 

The boy merely laughed. 

Yssandra looked from the boy to the woman with interest. She refused to acknowledge the pang of hurt and jealousy the obvious affection between them stirred in her. It wasn't their fault, no more than it was Jaenelle's. She couldn't ask – didn't wish for – everyone to be as unhappy as she had been. Walking up to the woman, she held her hands out. 

"You're Marian, I take it?" When the woman nodded and returned the greeting, she continued; "I'm Yssandra, Jaenelle's and Draca's mother." 

Marian stiffened at that, eyes going wide. "Draca's…" she whispered before shaking her head slightly as if clearing her thoughts. "Then I'm honored to meet you," she said firmly, sensing Yssandra's withdrawal and hoping to undo it. When the other woman smiled warmly, Marian bit her lip lightly, trying to find something appropriate to say. Her line of thought was interrupted by another scream from Daemonar, who had obviously grown tired of being ignored. "That would make you his grandmother, wouldn't it?" she said hesitantly, pointing at the chandelier Daemonar was playing in. 

"If you want it to," Yssandra replied. Her words were cautious, but it was the hope in her eyes that Marian latched on to. 

"Then you deal with the little troublemaker while I gather the family. Jaenelle doesn't know you're here yet, does she?" 

"Not unless Ladvarian told on me." When Marian turned to leave, Yssandra reached out to place a hand on her arm. The Eyrien looked up in surprise and Yssandra smiled warmly at her. "Thank you," she said simply. 

Marian smiled back and left without another word. 

Saetan and Beale had watched the exchange with interest and Saetan was relieved that Lucivar's wife had once again shown what a caring woman she was. If he'd had to pick someone other that Jaenelle to be the first to meet Yssandra, Marian would have been his choice. No matter what Yssandra was, Marian had seen past it to who she was. 

"Maybe I should –" Beale began, only to be silenced by a sharp gesture from Saetan. The High Lord wanted to see how Yssandra would handle the child. 

Planting her hands on her hips, the newly appointed grandmother looked up at Daemonar consideringly. He was sitting on the chandelier, dangling his feet carelessly, and humming something she couldn't quite make out. 

"I don't suppose you would come down and say hello to your grandmother, would you?" she said, grinning when Daemonar shook his head. "Then I'll just have to come to you." 

She rose from the floor slowly, using a tiny wisp of power to float up to the chandelier. Thoughtfully strengthening the delicate structure to hold her weight, she settled down a foot or so from Daemonar and looked down at Saetan and Beale. 

"They do look a bit ridiculous from up here, don't they?" she said casually. 

Daemonar stared at her for a moment before laughing. He looked from the two puzzled males on the floor to the female next to him and laughed harder, further delighted when she let out a laugh of her own. 

The warm hum of happy contentment spread throughout the Hall, filling its residents. Saetan understood where it came from, and he was glad for her. But most of all, he was relieved that he had made the right decision in inviting Yssandra to come here. He watched with a smile as Daemonar shifted closer to Yssandra and hugged her. 

"It seems Lucivar won't have to look for a babysitter anymore," Saetan mumbled. 

********************************** 

The family gathered, just as Marian had promised. She had chosen one of the living rooms, easily large enough to hold them. 

Saetan sat by one wall, where he could watch the others. Jaenelle and Daemon had been the first to arrive, obviously not forewarned about the reason for the impromptu gathering. Yssandra had shifted the sleeping Daemonar to one side and tentatively held her free hand out. Jaenelle had studied her for a moment before recognition hit and she launched herself at Yssandra, hugging her tightly. 

"I'm glad you're here," she said, keeping her voice down to keep from waking Daemonar. 

"Thank you." Tears fell down Yssandra's cheeks, and she made no effort to hide them. "I wasn't sure you'd welcome me after everything that –" 

"We all did what we had to," Jaenelle interrupted. She smiled widely as she took her mother's hand and tugged her forward. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Daemon." She looked up to see Daemon's confusion. "Daemon, this is my mother." 

His eyes widened. There was a moment of hesitation as he tried to figure that out, but then he gave up and took the proffered hand, placing a light kiss on the back of it. 

"It's a pleasure, Lady…?" 

"Yssandra." She smiled. "But if you feel more comfortable naming me like you usually do, go ahead." 

He blinked, thoroughly confused this time. With a quick glance at Yssandra and Jaenelle, Saetan decided to have mercy on his son. The females were enjoying this far too much. 

"Yssandra is also the mother of Draca," he said helpfully. 

"Mother Night!" Daemon sunk down into the chair Jaenelle hastily moved in behind him. The beatific smile he received from his mother-in-law didn't calm his nerves at all. 

"Like I said; if you want to keep that name, I don't mind." 

Silence fell as Jaenelle tried to soothe her shocked husband. Daemonar stirred once as they waited for the others, but calmed when Yssandra started humming quietly. 

Saetan was rather relieved when the door opened and Surreal stalked into the room, closely followed by Falonar. 

"I hope you have a damn good reason for interrupting – Oh, we've got guests." Surreal forced her snarl to turn into a more polite tone of voice. She hooked her hair behind her ears and tried not to let the strange female get to her. _There is something off about her, though…_ She pushed those thoughts away when Falonar gently pulled her over to the couch. They sat down and she curled up against him contentedly. 

Last came Marian and Lucivar. The Eyrien woman smiled warmly at Yssandra, surprised to see her overactive son sound asleep. 

*Do you want him back?* Yssandra sent privately, still humming. 

Marian had to smile at her reluctance. *Let him sleep, so we can have some peace and quiet.* 

Yssandra nodded thankfully and waited as Marian made her husband sit down. She glanced at Saetan, wondering if he wanted to make the introductions, or if she should handle that herself. Seeing he was comfortably seated, watching his family with interest, she concluded that she would speak for herself. She quickly shielded Daemonar from hearing them. 

"One of my daughters invited me to the Hall," she began cautiously. "She offered me a home here, but since she has no claim to this house, nor to your family, I felt I couldn't accept that offer before speaking to the man who built it. Saetan was kind enough to confirm that invitation, but I want you to know that if my presence upsets you, you need only ask and I will leave." She took a deep breath. "I am Yssandra, Jaenelle's and Draca's mother." 

The silence that followed her words was testament to their shock. Jaenelle and Marian looked around the room expectantly, Marian going so far as to nudge Lucivar sharply with her elbow. 

Not surprisingly, it was Surreal who spoke first. 

"Males," she muttered as she got to her feet. "I can't promise I'll never be afraid of you, Lady, but I'm honored to meet you. And if you're Jaenelle's mother, then I'll trust you." She started to curtsey. 

"Please don't," Yssandra said hastily. "I'm not a Queen; you shouldn't treat me like one. In the living Realms, I have no place at all." 

"Yes, you do." Daemonar stood and walked over to kiss her cheek. "As long as I own the Hall, you will be welcome here. Mother." 

"And Ebon Rih will be open to you as well," Lucivar added. As he followed his brother's example, he whispered; "If you want to baby-sit that little beast for us, we'll be more than thankful." 

Yssandra was so caught off guard by the statement, said in such a hopeful tone, that she had to laugh. As the sound filled the room, Lucivar smiled back at her. The twinkle in his eyes was enough to tell Yssandra that he'd said it just to ease the tension. 

If she hadn't already loved all her children, the Eyrien would have won a place in her heart then. As it was, she could only shake her head at his intuition and count herself lucky to be welcomed into the family. 

  


********************************** 

A/N: As always, I want reviews; lots of 'em! Constructive critisism is appreciated.   
Daughter of Night 


	4. Chapter three

  


Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop. 

Warning: Please note that the rating has been raised to PG-13. (But if you could read the books, this should pose no problem.) 

Thank you to: **Raksha**, **Daecivar** (I'm glad you liked "my" Lucivar! I try to keep everyone in character.), **Apricot Jones** (I know the plot isn't what it should be, but I've been trying to establish my OC first. ::grins:: And if Saetan can have glasses, Yssandra can damn well have sunglasses!) 

Author's ramblings: It only took me one month to write this chapter! Can you believe it? ::grins::   
I also realized I've forgotten to change spellings so that Lorn and Draca hisses. Previous chapters have been edited to that effect, and it is with intention that Yssandra doesn't hiss. Thanks for your attention, and on with the chapter! 

  


  


**Chapter three**

  


That evening, Jaenelle showed her mother to the room – suite, really – that had been made ready for her. When asked, Yssandra had made only one request with regard to her living quarters; that it faced east. The elegant, if old-fashioned, suite met that demand and even exceeded Yssandra's expectations. The bedroom had wide, floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading to a balcony. At the moment it provided a spectacular view of the evening sky; its crimson stains slowly darkening as the sun set. 

Yssandra nodded in satisfaction. From there, she could greet the dawn. 

Turning away from the view, she caught Jaenelle's uncertain expression and raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

"Do you like it?" Jaenelle asked hesitantly. "I could ask Helene to find you something else if –" 

Yssandra smiled. "It's perfect." She pulled the young woman into a tight embrace and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you. And not just for the room." 

"Anytime, Mother." Jaenelle smiled back warmly, the smile turning into a mischievous grin. "Good night." 

Yssandra chuckled. "I try to be. Pleasant dreams to you." 

She followed Jaenelle to the door and closed it slowly, using Craft to make sure no one entered without her permission. She paused briefly by the bed to rid herself of her clothes. The compact darkness dissolved, creeping into the already shadowy corners of the room. Yssandra barely noticed as she settled down on the bed, her mind already occupied with other matters. There was something not quite right… something she couldn't define; an awareness in the very core of her being that something was wrong, a feeling that the Realm itself was twisted. Now that she was alone with nothing to distract her the knowledge sent a chill of fear through her. 

Closing her eyes determinately, she tried to sink into sleep the way she'd done while still in the Abyss. But there were sounds, smells, and sensations surrounding her that never reached the psychic world she'd left, and they kept her anchored. As she shifted to lie on her stomach, the silk sheets brushing her skin was surprisingly pleasant and she turned again just to feel that delightful caress again. 

_There are too many things to get used to; I need to take this one step at a time._ She glanced out the glass doors. _Sound and smell first_, she decided. _It's not like I need more sleep…_

********************************** 

In a place as far removed from the Realms as the Abyss, another ancient being smiled. The light surrounding him glinted off white fangs and added to the glow of golden eyes. 

"Ssso you have returned at lassst," he hissed. "Will you play the game, I wonder?" 

Only silence met his words, but he didn't mind. 

"Will you come to me, Ysssandra?" 

********************************** 

Yssandra stood on her balcony, her hands startlingly pale against the gray stone of the parapet. She'd stood there for most of the night, enjoying the simple things that came with being physical again. Breathing in, smelling flowers and damp grass, feeling the cool air rushing into her lungs; breathing out, watching stray strands of hair move slightly as the air stirred. Feeling the dew coat her naked skin; sensing her children sleeping peacefully; delighting in the fact that her coming here had not troubled them. 

A deep sigh of contentment interlaced with the sounds of night. 

The sound seemed strange to her – strange, but not out of place. Yssandra acknowledged that she had had little reason to feel content in the past, the thought now free of bitterness. The past was exactly that; past, over and done with, not bound to repeat itself. Her daughters – her _family_ – had offered her a brighter future. 

_And speaking of brighter…_

Yssandra doubted any of the other night-living creatures could sense it yet, but she could. She felt a thrill of excitement. Dawn was coming. And for the first time in millennia, she was here to greet it. 

She floated down to the ground, finding a suitable spot in a gentle downward slope. Laying down in the soft grass she looked to the sky, smiling as she watched the stars begin to dim, the deep, rich darkness of night fading into predawn gray. Color crept into her vision, painting the sky in rosy hues, offset by gold. She closed her eyes in anticipation. 

When the first beams of sunlight reached her, her smile grew sultry. The sun rose higher, bathing her with light. With every caress it narrowed her awareness until she knew of nothing but its heated hands on her skin, felt nothing but the liquid fire running through her veins. Yssandra parted her legs slightly and bit back a moan as the heat caressed her inner thighs teasingly. Unconsciously, she raised her hands, beckoning to her insubstantial lover to join her. Even now, in the throws of passion, she ached to hold him, to touch him skin to skin. But the only response to her call came with the light; its touches growing more heated, more urgent. Brilliant golden light filled her mind and her back arched as a wave of white-hot pleasure washed through her. 

She was not even aware that she had left the ground until she was gently lowered back onto the grass. 

As the languid sense of satisfaction seeped into her, she whispered; 

"Is this all we will ever have?" 

Silence met her words. Silence, and an almost regretful caress on her cheek. 

Yssandra fell asleep with a smile. The Kindred found her and guarded her until she woke, but she didn't move until Draca found her a few hours later. A quick glance at Yssandra's sated expression was all she needed to guess what had happened. 

"I sssee you met Father," she said neutrally. 

"Yes." Yssandra sounded sad as well as satisfied, but she smiled up at her eldest daughter. "I had forgotten how considerate he could be." She rose gracefully, yawning as she stretched. Her eyes grew serious and she pulled darkness into a cloak around her. "I know the sun rose earlier in Terrielle than it did here. And yesterday I felt it linger there after it left us." 

Draca nodded and led the way back to the Hall. "He'sss pulling away from Kaeleer, isssn't he?" 

"He is gathering his power, focusing it on Terrielle, yes." 

"I don't underssstand why," Draca admitted quietly. "What could he posssibly hope to gain?" 

Yssandra sighed. "Not now, Draca. This one day I will spend carefree with my family." Her eyes stared unseeingly at the sun as she tilted her head back to let the sunlight warm her face. "Even if one of them is too stubborn to come here." 

"Very well." Draca couldn't stop a small smile. "Are you sure Father isss the only ssstubborn one? I ssseem to recall you ssspending –" 

"Oh hush, child." 

"Yesss, Mother," Draca said meekly, but there was a teasing twinkle in her eyes that made Yssandra chuckle. Slipping an arm around Yssandra's waist she leaned against her, thankful for the arm that lifted to rest on her shoulders. 

"I misssed you," she murmured. 

Yssandra placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "And I you. Always." 

They made their way up to the Hall in companionable silence, walking slowly so as to draw out the moment of contentment. Both knowing that reality would press in soon enough. 

"Draca," Yssandra said hesitantly as they stepped through the front doors. 

"Yesss, Mother?" 

"Would you call the family for me?" She smiled in slight embarrassment. "Touching that many at once… Human minds are too different if I can't focus enough." 

"Of courssse." Draca reached out to find and summon the humans. Within minutes they were all gathered in the same room where they had welcomed Yssandra the day before. 

"Why did you call us?" Surreal asked. "Is something wrong?" 

"You have no cause for alarm, child." Yssandra smiled when the former assassin bristled at the epithet. "I am sorry to have offended you, Surreal, but I am millions of years older than my daughter. Is it truly surprising if I name you as I sometimes name her?" 

Surreal returned her gaze unflinchingly, but her eyes widened and she shook her head. Only when Falonar squeezed her shoulder did she look away. 

"To answer your question," Yssandra continued, "I called you here because I wanted to show you something. Each of you must decide for yourselves if you want to see it or not." She met their eyes one by one and was pleased to see nothing but curiosity and a healthy bit of caution. "I wish to show you my Hell." 

Even Draca was startled; Yssandra could feel her stiffen beside her as she studied her family intently. She realized that only Jaenelle and Saetan understood the significance of her offer. That Yssandra's Hell might be completely different from the Hell Saetan had ruled. 

"I'll go." 

Everyone stared at Marian, surprised that the only light-Jeweled among them would be the first to speak. The Eyrien met Yssandra's eyes calmly, unfazed by the others' attention. 

"I trust you," she said. "Whatever you show us might be unsettling, but we will be in no danger." 

Yssandra smiled gratefully, having been feared more than long enough to appreciate the gift of trust for the precious thing it was. 

"I'm going too." Lucivar took Marian's hand and interlaced their fingers. They smiled at each other, and Yssandra could feel them talking privately. She shifted her attention to the rest of the group, watching Surreal exchange a look with Falonar. 

"We're not about to miss the opportunity," Surreal said casually. "I've only been there once, and I didn't really have time to enjoy the scenery." 

Jaenelle and Daemon nodded their consent simultaneously, and Saetan hesitated only a moment more before voicing his approval. 

Yssandra glanced at Draca and from the twinkle in the younger dragon's eyes, she assumed her daughter knew how she intended to travel. 

Darkness rose like a mist and quickly surrounded them. When it disappeared, the room was empty. 

********************************** 

The Dark Realm had always been an unsettling place, even to the dead. Now that no demons inhabited the barren landscape it was even more desolate. 

A group of people appeared on the top of a hill overlooking most of the Realm. All but two of them gasped, unused to Yssandra's way of travel. The female in question exchanged an amused glance with Draca. 

*Do you think I startled them?* she sent privately. 

*Mother!* Draca tried hard to contain her laughter. *You could have warned them,* she added in a more reproachful tone. 

*Could have… But it was more fun this way.* 

While the dragons spoke, their companions took in their surroundings. The Realm appeared the same as it had always been; a cold place wrapped in eternal darkness, the only light coming from the stars and the moon. 

There was something new, though. A hum of power vibrated through the otherwise still air. Those who had been to the Realm before recognized it for what it was – Hell welcoming its true ruler. 

Yssandra stepped forward, separating herself from her family and ensuring that no one could see her face. She spoke without turning around. 

"When I first came here, this is all that the Dark Realm was. An empty wasteland that had never seen light of any kind. I could not give it a sun, but I gave all the warmth I had to its stars and made the moon more radiant here than in either of the other Realms." 

The howling of the hell hounds filled the air. Yssandra smiled as the large beasts came in sight. She sank to her knees, patting backs and tickling bellies, scratching ears and ruffling fur while the hounds crowded around her like oversized puppies. 

"That was enough for some," Yssandra continued when the hounds settled down at her feet. "The hounds drink from the power that sustains the Realm. As long as there is a Hell, there will be hell hounds." 

"But they eat," Jaenelle interjected. "They hunt and they feed." 

Yssandra chuckled. "They enjoy the hunt and the kill, but they don't need either. All they need is the Darkness and the pale light of the stars. Other life took more coaxing. The plants that bloom so eagerly at my touch in the lighter Realms would not grow here." She smiled. "But the Darkness sings to others, to the ones who could not hear my call in the Realms made by Light." 

Silence fell as she considered her next words. She stood and glanced over her shoulder at her family, glad to see them looking at her with expectation and some discomfort but no fear. Had they been frightened, she would have sent them back through the Darkness to Kaeleer. 

"I brought you here to show you Hell. Not this faded Realm, but _my_ Hell." 

She closed her eyes and carefully made a bubble of safety around her weaker companions. The last thing she wanted was to hurt them. 

Reaching inwards she gathered her power, pulling it from the psychic void of the Abyss and flooding the physical Realm with it. She was dimly aware of the hounds closing their eyes in bliss as the Darkness rushed through them. All that mattered then was the weave of Darkness that formed the Realm. She poured her essence into the minute restoration of worn and broken threads that had formed the beautiful surface of the sturdy weave. 

When her eyes opened again, she couldn't stop another smile from lighting her face. 

"Look," she said simply. "_This_ is Hell." 

  


********************************** 

A/N: I'd love to hear what you thought, and if you have any questions you're very welcome to ask!   
Daughter of Night 


	5. Chapter four

  


**Disclaimer:** I'm getting tired of these. If you haven't understood that _they're not mine_ by now, then you never will. 

**Author's ramblings:** Once again I've taken far too long writing a new chapter. ::sighs:: I will try to do better, and I have good hopes for posting chapter five before Christmas. 

**Reviewer responses: **

Foxfire1: It was never my intention to make Yssandra perfect, and I hope you won't give up on me! There will be more Marian-friendly scenes in later chapters, if that helps... ::grins:: 

**KaratePunk:** I won't be bringing any dead characters back to life. I'm sorry, but they're gone. 

**Thank you to all who reviewed, and I hope everyone will enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter four**

  


The humans opened their eyes to a vastly changed Realm. There was a collective gasp of astonishment followed by a stunned silence as they took in the scenery. 

The formerly bare ground was covered in low, dark vegetation. It wasn't green, and when Lucivar knelt to touch the strands, it felt softer than grass. There were pale, delicate flowers scattered across the landscape, mimicking the star-sprinkled sky above. Even the naked rock gleamed like polished blackwood. The air was not as warm as in the lighter Realms, but Hell was kinder and more welcoming than any of its visitors had ever seen it before. 

"It isss beautiful," Draca whispered. 

Yssandra smiled, but didn't turn away from the view. 

"This is the home I made for myself when I left Kaeleer. This is what Hell was before I went to sleep and allowed it to fall into neglect." 

"But it's a _living_ Realm!" Daemon exclaimed. 

Yssandra chuckled. "Of course it is; it always has been. It merely fell asleep. My coming here was enough to wake it, and my power quickened its healing. Hell is the Realm of the dead, not of death. At its core, it is alive." 

"Then why is it so different from Kaeleer and Terrielle?" Saetan gestured at the night sky. "Why, if Hell lives, is there no sun here?" 

"Because it was made from Darkness, and no Light has been worked into its weave." Yssandra turned to look at them. Power lurked behind her eyes, but there was no pull to them. It was merely a reminder of the strength she held. "It is as much my Realm today as it was when I made it." 

"You did what?!" The shocked exclamation was wrung from six throats. Only Draca and Jaenelle remained impassive; one because she already knew, the other because she had seen it coming. Saetan seemed to be the one most thrown by Yssandra's statement. Maybe because he was more closely tied to Hell than the others – maybe because he better understood the power it had taken. He'd known Yssandra was stronger than Jaenelle had ever been, but to create a Realm… For the first time since he'd seen her with Daemonar, he felt a chill of fear. 

"I made Hell." Yssandra said it quietly, but firmly. Her tone left no room for doubt. "For many years it was enough to care for the Realm and watch it come to life. But to be so near my daughter and yet unable to see her, to speak with her face to face… It became too much for me to bear. I chose the deepest ravine in the Realm and plucked it from the physical world. It became my refuge, a safe place where nothing could reach me. Only those who held the dark power could enter it, and none could descend where I dwelled. You named it the Abyss." 

"Don't, Mother." Draca stepped over the resting hounds to wrap an arm around Yssandra's waist, trying to comfort her. *You don't owe them anything. I know how painful it isss for you to remember.* 

"You're right." Yssandra looked at her in gratitude. *This is not the time or the place to discuss my past, and you should be the one to decide how much they are told. You made them Blood, after all.* Her mental voice turned grim. *But I warn you; the time is coming when we both have to remember where we come from.* 

*We will ssspeak with Lorn,* Draca decided. *He isss asss much a part of thisss asss we are.* 

*Very well.* Yssandra turned her attentions to the humans. They were watching the dragons intently, perhaps trying to guess what their silent conversation was about. Neither dragon felt inclined to indulge that curiosity. 

"I thank you for allowing me to show the Realm to you," Yssandra said sincerely. "I need to discuss some things with Draca, but we should be back at the Hall before dinner tomorrow. If everyone is ready to go, I will return you to Kaeleer." 

"I would like to stay a while longer." Saetan met her gaze calmly. "If you'll let me, Lady." 

Yssandra smiled affectionately. "You made a place for yourself here simply by caring. The Dark Realm is your home, make use of it as you please." 

"Thank you." Saetan started down the hill, the hounds trailing after him. A few steps down he turned to look at the others but they were already gone. 

Patting the furry backs of his companions, the Caretaker smiled and continued on his way. 

********************************** 

Yssandra and Draca appeared in Lorn's lair, startling him. Seeing them smile at his less than dignified reaction, he glared at them. 

*Would you pleassse refrain from doing that?* he sent irritably. 

"I apologize," Yssandra said, sounding more amused than sincere. She shaped the Darkness into a chair for herself, leaving the wooden one to Draca. The three dragons shared a comfortable silence. 

"I think you know why we have come," Draca said finally. "You have probably felt it more keenly than I have." 

*Lord Orolin isss focusssing hisss power on Terrielle.* Lorn sounded troubled. *The daysss are growing longer there at the sssame pace they are shortening here in Kaeleer.* 

Draca nodded. She was reluctant to continue the conversation, but she and Lorn needed to know what Yssandra did. Turning to meet her mother's eyes, Draca asked quietly; "Why isss he doing thisss? What isss it he hopesss to gain?" 

Yssandra didn't respond, just sat there silently, her gaze filled with regret. She seemed hesitant to speak, as if sharing her knowledge would make it all more real, the threat more solid. 

"He wants to burn the Darkness out of Terrielle, to make it a true Realm of Light again." 

"Is that even posssible?" 

"No, but he has yet to realize that. My power is so deeply ingrained in Terrielle that if he burns it away the weave will dissolve. Likewise, if he pulls out all his strands of the weave of Kaeleer, the weave will collapse and the Realm will be destroyed." 

"How can he not sssee that?" 

Yssandra sighed wearily. "Orolin was proud, always so proud of being a dragon. Even when I was a hatchling he let me know that I was less than they were, that I would never be as powerful as a dragon. As I matured the very difference that he abhorred became an attraction. When the nights grew longer he resented me for the change I had brought upon the Realms, and he was among the ones who spoke for my exile." She paused, a wistful smile curving her lips. "He longs for my Darkness as I long for his Light, but that is all we have. Orolin never saw me as an equal, and now that he holds the full power of the dragons he believes the time has come to remove my influence." 

Silence fell again. The younger dragons saw Yssandra's hair move as if teased by a wind unfelt by anyone but her. They knew it was her agitation, and didn't comment. 

*Ssso until he admitsss to himssself what you truly are, he cannot underssstand that he will dessstroy the Realmsss?* 

"Until we both look inside ourselves and acknowledge what we feel, the Darkness and the Light will always be at odds." Yssandra looked away. "And I am too afraid to look." 

"But you already have!" Draca protested. "You sssaid that you long for hisss Light, how can you admit that and ssstill not know what you feel?" 

When Yssandra remained silent, Lorn answered in her stead. 

*Would you truly demean the bond we share by calling it the equal of physssical attraction? Emotion isss alwaysss more complicated than lussst.* His tone was reproachful, and Draca bowed her head in acceptance. 

"I fear the knowledge, because no matter what we feel, it will change the Realms." Yssandra spoke quietly, but her voice carried in the stillness of the lair. "If we still feel as we did, if the game we've played since the creation of the Blood is truly all we can ever have, I don't think it will be enough to hold us together. We are both weary of it, that much I know. If attraction has grown to love, the weave will change. If resentment has grown to hate, there will be true war between us." She sighed. "And if we have taken different paths, the balance will be forever disrupted, impossible to regain." 

Silence fell. The younger dragons were frozen, unable to grasp that their elders had been pushed that far. Yssandra glanced from one to the other, looking for hints as to what she should do. Seeing that neither was truly aware of her presence she eased her shielding and read the surface of their powers. She smiled faintly in relief. They had sunken deep into their bond, where there was communication without words, understanding without thoughts. 

Yssandra rose, letting her chair dissolve into shadows again, and faded into the Darkness. 

********************************** 

Geoffrey was shelving books in the library, humming softly to himself as he put each book in its proper place. It was work that might seem tedious to some, but to Geoffrey the routine brought contentment. That was why he was so startled when another voice intruded on his solitude. 

"Still as attached to those dusty old things, I see." 

Geoffrey yelped, dropping a book as he spun to face the speaker. His eyes widened and he found himself tempted to pinch his arm. Surely his eyes were playing tricks on him? It couldn't possibly be… 

"Lady? How did…? When…?" 

Yssandra smiled and came closer, settling the book he'd dropped on the top of the pile and letting the pile drift from his hands. Geoffrey started to kneel, but Yssandra's hands caught his. When he looked up at her in surprise she shook her head. 

"No ceremony between friends, Geoffrey. And you can call me by my name." 

Geoffrey blinked. "But the ban –" 

"I've rescinded it." 

There was a half hopeful, half afraid look in her eyes that Geoffrey had seen on very few occasions. It reassured him that she was the same; older and possibly even more fragile than when he saw her last, but essentially the same. 

"I'm glad that you did, Yssandra. The years have been long without you." 

Yssandra tried to smile and released his hands. "I've missed you. By all the Darkness, how I've missed you!" 

As the first sob shook her, Geoffrey reached out and pulled her into his arms. He ran one hand through her dark hair as she cried against his shoulder. The long strands slid over his skin, returning the caress in silent gratitude. He murmured soothing words as he guided her over to a small couch in one corner of the room. It seemed fitting somehow, that their reunion took place in the same room where she'd said her goodbyes when she left the Realms 80,000 years ago. 

It might have been hours or merely minutes before Yssandra quieted. The deep, racking sobs faded into an occasional hiccup, the stream of tears dried on her cheeks. The tension drained from her body, she remained cuddled against Geoffrey. Basking in the closeness that she had only ever felt with him. 

"I should have come sooner," she said eventually, her voice little more than a whisper. "I just wanted to be sure that I was staying before I told you. It didn't feel right to tell you something I didn't yet believe in." 

"No regrets, Yssandra. I think I felt you leave the Abyss, and I've been half expecting you." Geoffrey smiled slightly. "I assume you have moved in with Jaenelle?" 

Yssandra pulled back to look at him. "How did you know? How could you know that they would let me stay?" 

"I know Jaenelle and I know Saetan. Neither would be able to turn you away." Geoffrey graced her with a rare full-blown smile, the kind that made his eye shine with mirth. "There is too much of you in them for them not to understand what it feels like to be feared because of power." 

Yssandra nodded her understanding and let her head drop back to his shoulder. They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts. It was a comfortable silence; the kind of silence true friends can share when there is no need to speak. A stillness filled with the soft sound of their breathing and the barely audible beating of their hearts. It was a comfort to both that they still had that peace between them. 

Geoffrey broke the silence. 

"Why did you lift the ban to speak your name?" 

Yssandra let the question hang while she searched for words to explain, knowing that Geoffrey wouldn't mind. They were too familiar with each other's quirks to be bothered by them anymore. 

"Do you remember why I forbade it?" she asked. 

"You said that it hurt too much to remember. That if we forgot then maybe you would be able to as well." 

Yssandra nodded. "It worked, in a way. I _did_ forget. I forgot my name, forgot who I was, forgot where I came from. But I couldn't forget what I had done, and without knowing _why_ it hurt more than ever." She sighed. "I slept a long time, lost myself in dreams of the past, the present and the future. I stirred when Cassandra set up her court here at the Keep, but it didn't hold my interest for long." 

"I heard you cry for help," Geoffrey mumbled. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you." 

"Draca reached me. She gave me my name back, and it was enough." Yssandra met his eyes seriously. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my choice to be alone, to reject the help that was so freely offered. I had too much pride to admit that you might know me better than I did." Her smile was full of self-contempt. "I didn't even realize that my leaving would hurt you." 

"Don't," Geoffrey said sternly. "Don't blame yourself for being fallible. Everyone makes mistakes, Yssandra, even the strong ones. What matters is how you deal with it." He studied her for a moment. "How _are_ you dealing?" 

Yssandra shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know if I am, yet. Both Orolin and I have let this slide for too long, and it will take both of us to fix it. I don't know how to make him understand what he is doing." 

"Have you seen him?" 

Yssandra snorted. "As far as I know he hasn't left his sanctuary in two million years." 

Geoffrey sighed in exasperation. "Have you spoken at least?" 

"We've… we've been in touch." 

There was a slight blush in her cheeks as she said it, and that told Geoffrey all he needed to know. He chuckled, relief and worry mingling. Sooner or later, the game had to end, and he knew it as well as Yssandra did. 

"You know you'll always be my best friend," she said suddenly. "I trust you more than anyone. I trust you to give me truth even when I don't want it." 

"Of course." 

"What will happen, do you think? What will I do?" 

Geoffrey smiled. "You will do what you've always done. Preserve the Realms." 

And again, there was silence. 

  


********************************** 

A/N: Please push that little Go button and leave me a review so I know what you thought. I live for reviews!   
Daughter of Night 


	6. Chapter five

  


**Disclaimer:** Nope, I'm not telling you again. If you need to see it, back up a chapter and read it there. 

**Author's ramblings:** I did finish the chapter before Christmas, I really did, but my internet was uncooperative, and I couldn't post until today. But I doubt anyone's mad at me, right? 

**Reviewer responses:**

**Daecivar:** I didn't say Lucivar was mine, I just meant my interpretation of him. Sorry for the confusion! ::grins:: As for Darkness and Light, they are simply two different kinds of magic; the raw power, if you will. 

**kbat:** There won't be any additional races, but I have a reason. I will even tell you what it is, later on. ::winks:: 

**Thank you to all who reviewed or e-mailed me, you brighten my days!**

**Chapter five**

  


That night, Yssandra slept. 

In a chamber far below the Keep, her rest was nearly as undisturbed as it had been in the Abyss. Surrounded only by her own power, she could hear nothing but her own soft breaths; feel nothing but the smooth stone underneath her naked body. She could smell her power in the air, see the scales of her cast skins scattered along the walls, floor and ceiling. Starlit scales and darker-than-Ebony scales were pressed into the stone, forming patterns that only Yssandra's eyes could decipher. 

It was a chamber made for her, made by her, made _of_ her. It was the one place in the lighter Realms that was truly hers, the only place the Light had never touched. 

It was the place Yssandra came to when she sought solace without company, isolation without loneliness. 

In the depth of this chamber, her sleep was always undisturbed. 

Undisturbed, but not untroubled… 

  


********** Dream sequence **********

_There is rage. Rage so terribly cold it burns me from the inside, rushes scaldingly through my veins. _

There is hunger. Hunger aching like a scar that won't heal, always hurting like a poisoned wound. Hunger for something I cannot name. 

There is also lust. Lust and need. Desire... Not for pleasure, but for pain. The pain of others. I long to see them in agony, writhing in pain and fear. I need to see them feel what I have felt, hear them scream as I have screamed. I relish the knowledge that their pleas for mercy will not be answered any more than mine were. 

I let their emotion seep into me. I draw upon their terror, savor it like I savor their blood. From their horror and revulsion, their pain and hopelessness I take satisfaction. A tainted satisfaction that sates my lust but only increases my hunger. And with every death, every ended pain, the lust stirs anew... The rage boils, the Darkness rises... It sweeps my mind away, drowns everything out... 

They die by my teeth, my claws, my power. Strong ones and weak ones, humans and animals. Dark eyes and light eyes, eyes that understand and eyes that don't. 

Images bleed together until I don't know if I'm seeing the present, the past or the future. It tastes wrong_, smells _wrong_, and still it goes on... I can't do this anymore, I don't hate _them_! I want it to stop, I don't want them to hurt anymore, I don't want _me_ to hurt! It's wrong, it's all wrong – _they_'re wrong, it's not supposed to be them, these children of Light and Darkness... It's not supposed to be the half-breeds. It's not them I want to kill! _

There is Darkness. Darkness moving around me, coursing through me. 

There is horror. Horror over what I've done, what I've allowed myself to become. 

There is realization. A bone-deep conviction of what I must do, a sudden knowledge of how to separate me from the past. 

There is pain. My mind crying out as I leave my body and settle into another. One that holds no memories of hurt, one that will not betray me and let the Darkness surge. 

There is Light. A fleeting touch, so soft and swift I cannot be sure it was real and not imagined, but the pain fades. 

********** End dream sequence **********

  


Yssandra shifted in her sleep, her hair moving along her body in soothing caresses as her power tried to ease her into a more peaceful rest. A slight frown creased her forehead, but she slept quietly. 

Suddenly, a soft sigh escaped her and her expression relaxed into contentment. In the perfect stillness of her lair, the murmured name echoed. 

"Orolin." 

********************************** 

Yssandra woke slowly, drifting from sleep to alertness. She knew she had dreamt, but unlike her dreams in the Abyss she couldn't remember what it had been about. For one so accustomed to being unable to forget, it was disconcerting. 

_Why is it always like this?_ she thought. _Only when I wear a physical body can I dream like the children do, without fully understanding or remembering. And only in the Abyss am I free of fear... Perhaps it is part of the balance; one gift taken to grant another. _She stood up, stretching, watching wiry muscles move under pallid skin. _Maybe if Orolin wore flesh again, he would see that this blending of powers is not necessarily an evil thing._

Part of the wall, made entirely by her old scales, parted at Yssandra's touch to let her into the stairwell leading up to the Keep. 

_I have seen more races and civilizations than I ever wanted to fall and disappear under the weight of time. The one thing they held in common was stagnation, the fear of change. The dragons had that when I was born._

Yssandra paused in her ascent, stricken by the path her thoughts had taken. She pulled Darkness into a vest and pants not unlike those of an Eyrien warrior and continued upwards. 

_Perhaps that is the answer to the riddle of my birth. Perhaps their own complacence and impending demise made me. When a mortal race dies, another rises in its place, but if there were no others, what then? If the dragons had simply died and their power disappeared, what would have been left?_ Yssandra reached out with one hand to steady herself against the wall. _Nothing... There would have been nothing at all..._

She swallowed convulsively, fighting the nausea. Resolutely, she straightened and pushed away from the wall. 

_But there_ is_. Whether I was made intentionally or not, I _was_ made. I; the black dragon, the first wielder of Darkness, the mother of the night. And with my coming, the Realms changed. I gave life to Draca, the only dragon born with both powers. She took Lorn as her mate; took his Light into her and gave him her Darkness to make him a hybrid like her. They lived, as Orolin and I lived. In these changed Realms, life grew plentiful. Not nearly as strong as the golden dragons were, but so vast in numbers that my makers were awed by it. The dragons wouldn't accept the change, and they faded, surrendering their power to Orolin._

Black tresses slithered around her, moving like snakes in caresses meant to calm her, but Yssandra didn't notice. She could feel the old rage rising, stronger than it had ever been since she made her human body. 

_They made me, brought me into this world only to despise me. To hate and fear this power that they gave me. In fear of my power, they exiled me from the Realms that were by then as much mine as theirs. In hatred of my power, they forbade me to call myself a dragon._

Power moved in her eyes, and above her, Lorn shifted uncomfortably. Draca pressed closer to him as if seeking refuge from the building storm. The rage of Mother Night was a thing even her daughter feared. 

_They made me hate them. They made me hate so deeply that it became me, that I lost myself in hating. And when I did, there were none of them left... There were only children; two-legged, four-legged, winged, water-breathing... All defenceless._

Yssandra shuddered, the rage stilling. She fell to her knees on the stairs, accepting the comfort of her power, for a moment allowing nothing to reach her awareness but the feel of hair against skin. She pulled Darkness into a cloak, settling it over her hair. She felt the need to isolate herself as much as possible from the physical world, the sunlight in particular. It was a test of will every time she felt it on her skin, and she did not feel strong enough to face it. 

_I will not succumb to the hatred again_, she thought as she rose. _If what I have concluded is correct, then Geoffrey was more right than he knows when he said I have always preserved the Realms._

Her expression hardened, her face as still as a marble statue. 

"I don't know what needs to be done," she whispered, "but I won't fail again." 

The stairwell was dark and empty, unlit by sun or Craft. Only Yssandra could see the door a half dozen steps above her. Only she could feel the Darkness moving around her, drifting freely in less substantial shapes than the clothes she wore. 

"The game will change, Orolin, and maybe we will find our answers without asking." 

The slightest of smiles tugged at her lips as she opened the door and stepped into the lowest cellars of the Keep. 

"And just maybe, those answers will end the game." 

********************************** 

The sun rose. 

Through its light, Orolin searched for the dark presence of his mate. Golden eyes twinkled with anticipation as he reached the Hall, where she had met him the day before. 

She wasn't there. 

He hesitated, wondering if she was simply late, but Yssandra could never be late. She knew the tides of day and night as well as he did. She had made them, and forced him to keep them. 

"I can feel you, Ysssandra," he whispered. "I know you are ssstill in Kaeleer. Why hide from me?" 

The silence seemed to mock his words. 

********************************** 

Yssandra was only slightly surprised when Ladvarian slipped into the room. She had expected the Kindred to come to her as soon as she had spoken to Geoffrey. The small dog jumped up into her lap and settled down comfortably, wagging his tail in appreciation as she caressed his fur. 

"Ladvarian, Kaelas," Yssandra said with a nod to each of them, "to what do I owe this pleasure?" 

Kaelas dropped his sight-shield as soon as the door closed behind him. 

*We came to talk, Lady Mother,* he said and sat down at her side, resuming Yssandra's staring out the window. *No one would think twice about Ladvarian's presence, but I am more conspicuous.* 

Yssandra raised one eyebrow. "And what is so important?" 

*Did you truly lift the ban to speak your name?* 

She smiled. "Yes, Kaelas. Anyone, Blood or landen, may call me Yssandra. It was stupid of me to believe that the knowledge of a name could change anything." 

*You are never stupid, Lady Yssandra,* Ladvarian said. *The ban may have been a bit hasty, but you needed it then. We all do what we need or want to do. And most of the time, we can change our minds.* 

Yssandra looked out the window. Facing the northwest, it provided her with daylight while letting her avoid sunlight, and the gaze of Orolin. She wasn't sure why, but the thought of seeing him again unsettled her. He had been in her dreams, even if she couldn't recall what the dream was about, and she didn't know what to make of it. The situation made her uneasy. 

*To change one's mind is a very human thing to do.* Kaelas sounded almost disapproving. The tone was so unexpected that it startled a laugh from Yssandra. 

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said calmly, "but wearing a human body this long must be affecting my sensibilities. Perhaps I should become Arcerian instead?" 

Kaelas snorted, but there was amusement in his eyes and mind voice as he retorted, *It would be a better shape than that of a human, but it is not necessary. You can be strong even in a human body, just like Jaenelle.* 

The mirth faded from Yssandra's face. With a sigh, she turned to the window again. "I have failed before," she said quietly. 

Ladvarian looked up at her as Kaelas licked her hand. 

*You fell once, Lady Yssandra. You fell, and you rose. You are beyond that now.* The dog met her eyes unflinchingly even as the power stirred. *We trust you.* 

*The Darkness protects both Blood and landen, Lady,* Kaelas added. *You _are _Darkness. The Kindred holds no fear of you.* 

Ladvarian looked from Yssandra to Kaelas and back again. He seemed to weigh his options, and with a quick lick at Yssandra's fingers he jumped off her lap and left the room. Neither of the remaining two spared him a glance. Kaelas shifted, leaning more solidly against Yssandra's leg as he rested his head on her thigh. 

"Now tell me why you did not wish to be seen," she said softly as she ran her fingers through his snowy white fur. 

A deep, rumbling noise was her only answer as she found a particularly sensitive spot. She couldn't help but smile. Felines – no matter what their size – were simply adorable when they purred. 

*There are humans who would not be comfortable knowing you spoke to an Arcerian. They look at us and see danger. They look at someone as powerful as you and add danger to it…* His mind voice trailed off, but Yssandra understood only too well. 

"I don't care what they think," she said adamantly. "My family knows me better than that, and other people can think what they will. They will never forgive my weakness before the Blood was made, even though they can't remember it. They will fear me regardless of what company I keep, and I refuse to let their fear control me. Not again." 

The room was quiet except for Kaelas' purring. He felt that she had more to say, and gave her the time she needed. 

"I've changed the rules of the game," Yssandra said eventually. "I'm still not sure if it was the right thing to do." 

*Done is done,* Kaelas told her in a typically Kindred manner. *One must plan from what _is_, not what could have been.* 

Yssandra looked out the window again, then back down at Kaelas. 

"I will." 

  


********************************** 

**A/N:** Christmas is all about giving... me giving you a new chapter, and you giving me reviews. ::smiles hopefully:: Pretty please?   
Merry Christmas and a joyous Winsol to all of you!   
_Daughter of Night_


	7. Chapter six

**Disclaimer:** I hope you're kidding? 

**Author's ramblings:** I'd like to apologize to all of you for taking this long. There have been family issues that left me with neither will, energy nor time to write. It's been rough, and I still feel like this chapter isn't what it could have been. However, considering the reviews I've gotten I think I've kept you waiting long enough, so here goes... 

**Reviewer responses:**

**Daecivar:** I'm glad I've stopped confusing you, and even happier that you like my story! Hope the new chapter will be to your satisfaction. 

**Spicy Eggplant:** Thank you so much for your praise; this story contains more dialogue than I'm really used to writing, and I've been a bit worried about it. You eased my fears greatly! 

**Aransi:** Sorry to disappoint, but you'll have to wait a few more chapters for the conclusion. And with reviews like yours, I'm tempted to drag it out... I'm a sucker for flattery! 

**Silver Moon Megami:** Oh my... ::blushes:: That's got to be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me! And no, there's nothing weird about naming your stuffies. I have inner voices who won't do what I tell them to. ::looks worried:: Maybe that was over-sharing? 

**An extra thanks to all who e-mailed me!**

**Chapter six**

It was late afternoon when Yssandra returned to the Hall. Struck by an unexpected need for politeness she stepped out of the Darkness outside the front door rather than directly inside her own room. Beale let her in, something like relief flitting through his eyes. He informed her that Saetan had asked to see her as soon as she could spare the time. She hesitated briefly, but judged that whatever Saetan had to say couldn't be _that_ bad. And if it were, it would do her no good to hide from it. She was tired of hiding. 

_Besides,_ she chastised herself, _if he wanted me to leave because of my bond to Hell, he would have told me so when I first showed the Realm's true face to them. He wouldn't have waited._

Knocking lightly on the door of study, she waited for Saetan's invitation before slipping inside. She looked around curiously, never having been inside any of the more private rooms of the Hall. It was personal in a way that the common rooms couldn't – and perhaps shouldn't – be. She didn't bother reading the titles of the books, but allowed a tendril of Darkness to caress them; noting their number and absorbing the variety of topics. It was a room made to fit Saetan, and it did. Yssandra smiled at the thought. 

Saetan raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Something amusing, Lady?" 

"The room suits you, Caretaker." 

He shrugged, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that belied the indifference. "I designed it. And I have had thousands of years to fine-tune the original." 

Yssandra's smile widened as she raised her brows in a show of skepticism. "Have you changed anything at all since you moved in here?" 

"No." Saetan smiled back warmly. "Just added a few books now and then." He vanished his reading glasses and gestured for Yssandra to sit. He waited until she settled before speaking again. 

"I never knew Hell could be like that," he said tentatively. "More than 50,000 years spent caring for the demon-dead, and I never even _guessed_... It is difficult for me to comprehend that what I always thought I knew about the Dark Realm – about _all_ the Realms – was a lie." 

"It was no lie." Yssandra met his eyes calmly, lips twitching with the effort not to smile at his confusion. "No one could remember the truth, so how could they lie? It wasn't truth, but perhaps it was what the Blood needed to believe at the time. I spent millennia there before Draca made the Blood. When I gave up on having a life in any Realm I created the Abyss and retreated into it. Through the Darkness that Draca gave you, you are able to brush the surface of my sanctuary, but very few have ever reached deep enough to disturb me. How could you know anything about me, or the Realms, when no one but the dragons have ever known the full truth?" 

"I would like to know. – If you don't mind telling me," he added hastily. "I'm not asking you to tell me anything you find too personal to share, but I want to know more about the Realms. How they came to be, how they are connected, what they truly are." 

"I can't tell you about the Realms without telling you about me. And to understand the actions of Draca and me, you need to know the story of me and Orolin." 

"Orolin?" 

"Draca's father; my mate." 

"He's still alive?" Saetan couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. 

"Yes." Yssandra sighed. "He is the last of the golden dragons, the only sentient being older than me. He holds Light equal to my Darkness. Together we balance the world." 

Silence fell as she studied Saetan's expression. 

"It's a long story," she said finally, "perhaps better suited for another night. As I understand, we are both expected at dinner in a few minutes." 

Saetan nodded and stood. "I should warn you; Jaenelle's sister is here. She will be joining us." He noted Yssandra's blank expression and elaborated; "Wilhelmina Benedict, she and Jaenelle shared a father." 

"Then maybe _I_ should miss dinner. The poor child has enough to deal with without my physical presence. She will probably feel me anyway, but she doesn't need to see me." 

"You're both part of this family, and it would mean a lot to Jaenelle if you could get along." 

Yssandra thought it through. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" 

Saetan smiled. "I've learned I can't be sure of anything when it comes to witches, especially not the dark-Jeweled ones." 

"I will try, but that's all I can promise." 

Saetan rounded the desk and offered his arm. "Shall we?" 

Yssandra smiled then, genuinely amused and a bit flattered despite herself. She linked their arms. "We shall." 

They made their way to the dining hall, keeping the conversation light and nonsensical. Yssandra was too preoccupied with the pending meeting with Wilhelmina, and Saetan was too considerate to force her attention. 

Pausing in the doorway, Yssandra looked around the room. Her gaze settled on a dark-haired woman talking to Jaenelle in an animated and somewhat giggly manner. 

"I'll tell Wilhelmina you wish to speak with her," Saetan said as he let go of Yssandra's arm and moved over to the sisters. 

Yssandra watched impassively as Saetan spoke to them. She saw Wilhelmina look back at her, saw the color drain from her face. She saw Saetan exchange a look with Jaenelle and continue to his seat at the table. She suppressed a brief bout of nervousness as the two women started towards her. 

_By all the Darkness,_ she thought, _what am I supposed to say to her?_

"Just be yourself." 

Yssandra turned to face Marian, smiling with gratitude. "I don't want to strain her relationship with Jaenelle," she said by way of explanation. 

"You won't, because Wilhelmina feels the same way. Loving Jaenelle will be enough to keep the peace between you two." 

Yssandra didn't have time to respond as Jaenelle and Wilhelmina drew close enough to hear them over the murmur of conversation. Jaenelle hugged her warmly, almost as if demonstrating that Yssandra wasn't dangerous. 

"Good evening, Mother," she said. "I'd like you to meet my sister, Wilhelmina Benedict. Wilhelmina, meet my mother, Yssandra." 

"Good evening, Lady," Wilhelmina mumbled automatically, not quite meeting Yssandra's eyes, but not quite looking away either. She held her hands out in greeting. 

Yssandra studied her with some amusement. The scent of fear teased her nostrils, taunting her with memories of a time when she was still a predator. She could see the trembling of the outstretched hands, but shrugged it aside and returned the greeting. It was endearing, really, the way these children thought they could hide their emotions. 

"I'm pleased to meet you, Lady Wilhelmina. My daughters have spoken well of you." 

"The – the pleasure is mine," Wilhelmina stuttered. 

"If that's true, why are you so afraid?" Yssandra felt strangely hurt by the woman's response. Fear, she had expected; pretty lies, she had not. "I assure you I have neither wish nor reason to harm you." 

Wilhelmina's face paled further, only to be flushed by embarrassed color. 

"I'm sorry, Lady. It's just that… With Jaenelle, she was my sister; more powerful than any of the adults, but still my sister. I loved her, and I trusted her." 

"And you don't trust me." Yssandra made it a statement, not a question. 

"I don't _know_ you." 

"Maybe you should get drunk again," Jaenelle suggested. "It worked with Lucivar." 

If possible, Wilhelmina's blush deepened. 

"I thought we agreed _not_ to bring that up again," she snapped, glaring at her sister. 

Jaenelle grinned unrepentantly. "_You_ agreed. I didn't." 

Marian laughed lightly, both at the sisters' antics and at Yssandra's uncomprehending expression. "Lady Wilhelmina got more than a bit tipsy during her first time at the Hall," she explained. "She offered to brush Lucivar's hair as a way of getting to know him." 

"Did he let her?" Yssandra was torn between amusement and curiosity. 

Marian shook her head, grinning. "Jaenelle convinced her that it was _my_ job, and then helped her lay down on the couch, where she passed out." 

Yssandra chuckled at the thought. It was difficult to reconcile the very proper woman before her with the impulsive image the story had painted. She remembered other moments when Wilhelmina had rebelled against her upbringing and done things that alternately spoke of courage and human fallibility. Those moments had been strong dreams, dreams that reverberated truth. Yssandra was not fool enough to dismiss them. 

"I doubt either of us would benefit from a repeat performance of _that_ incident," she said calmly, "but I would like to get to know you in truth, not merely by reputation." 

"I think…" Wilhelmina swallowed nervously, then started over more resolutely. "I _know_ I would like that as well." 

********************************** 

It was long after sunset when Yssandra floated down from her balcony. She wore a shift as thin as spidersilk, her hair falling freely down her back like a cloak. The light of moon and stars lent radiance to her skin. The grass was soft under her bare feet, the wind a gentle caress. Darkness drifted through the air, tendrils so thin no one but Yssandra could have seen them. 

It was her kind of night. 

She glanced down and nodded her approval when Kaelas moved up alongside her. His steps were as silent as her own; soundless as though they were stalking prey. 

"Can you hear it?" Yssandra asked quietly. 

Kaelas looked up at her in consternation. He could hear the common sounds of night, but little else. Even their breathing was softer than usual, synchronized so he would have thought he was alone if he didn't see and smell Yssandra. 

*I hear nothing unusual, Lady,* he sent cautiously. 

Yssandra smiled. "That's just it, child. This peaceful almost-silence is the most wonderful thing I have ever heard. The Abyss is only silent when I'm awake, and then it is the stillness of death that surrounds me. This is a silence rippling with life." 

She sat down, stretching her legs out and leaning back using her hands for support. She studied her own pale skin while Kaelas settled by her right side. 

"It glows almost like my scales do," she murmured absently. 

"You miss your old body?" Jaenelle asked as she sat down on Yssandra's other side. Neither cat nor dragon showed any surprise at her appearance. 

Yssandra sighed and wiggled her toes, tilting her head slightly as she watched the movement. "I couldn't remain locked in my memories, Jaenelle. I had to make a new body, a new beginning for myself. The Realms could not afford my bitterness or the rage it bred." 

Jaenelle looked at her, encouragement creeping into her tone. "I've never wanted to return to Chaillot, not even when I still believed Alexandra and the others could love me. That doesn't stop me from missing the duty-free days of my earliest childhood, of before they started to think me strange." She placed a hand on Yssandra's shoulder, smiling slightly as black hair curled around her arm, the ends tickling the crook of her arm. "You have a right to miss your dragon body, to wish that they had treated you differently." 

"I miss flying," Yssandra said slowly. "I can ask the Darkness to carry me and to you it will seem like flying, but… nothing can replace the feel of air beneath your wings. I could live another million years and still feel the loss as deeply as I did when I settled into this body. That memory lingered with me even after I had forgotten my name." 

Jaenelle bit her lip in consternation. She had flown with the Darkness, but she had never had wings. She remembered how frightened Lucivar had been at the thought of loosing his, the pain radiating from him when he though he would never fly again. She still could not completely comprehend the loss, but she could feel the pain just as strongly now as she had then. As a Healer, she couldn't _not_ try to comfort her mother, even knowing there was nothing she could say that Yssandra hadn't already thought of. 

"The Eyriens have wings," she said hesitantly. "You made your current body; couldn't you change it to be like theirs?" 

Dark eyes turned to her as a bittersweet smile crossed Yssandra's face. There was a stirring of power in those eyes, and Jaenelle felt the other's hair move restlessly. When Yssandra spoke, there was a deeper, almost threatening resonance in her voice. 

"I could. I could shed this creation of mine and resettle in my true body. I could twist this semblance of flesh into whatever form I wish." Yssandra sighed and took a moment to bring her agitation under control. "But I cannot allow my regret to fade. I need the pain of loss to balance the hurt of betrayal." She shifted her weight slightly, bringing her right hand up to cover Jaenelle's own on her shoulder. "I'm glad to be among you, daughter, never doubt that. Once I settle things with Orolin, I believe I will find my peace here." 

Silence reigned for a long time, all three settling into the comfort of simply being. No conscious thought marred the tranquility of the moment, there was just the slow, drowsy pulse of life and the warmth of companionship. 

Jaenelle was the first to leave. She rose and left quietly, returning to the Hall and her husband without a word. None were needed or wanted, and she respected that. 

Kaelas remained at Yssandra's side until he felt her tense. Stirred to alertness by the approaching dawn, she ruffled his fur playfully, wordlessly thanking him for his company. He gave her hand an affectionate lick before slipping away, leaving her to greet Orolin. 

********************************** 

**A/N:** So... Did it put you in a mood to review?   
_Daughter of Night_


	8. Chapter seven

**Disclaimer:** Don't be silly.

**Author's ramblings:** I'm really, really sorry about how slow I am at updating! You're all so wonderful and supportive, and deserve so much better... Please don't give up on me, because I've finally worked out where the fic is going! With a bit of luck, chapter eight should be done by the end of the month. ::crosses fingers::

I've started a website! It's a shared with my friends Amythest Angel and Raksha, both of whom write BJT fanfiction. Please visit us at I.V. Haven! (gronbladh.uppnet.se)

**Reviewer responses:**

**Daecivar:** Sorry, but no Lucivar in this chapter. He seems to be elbowing his way into the next one, though. Stay tuned!

**Meakashi Gosterful:** ::blushes:: I'm glad you love it. Just one question - How did you know I speak German??

**Ann:** I do believe you're the first to comment on his fangs. I won't answer the question just yet, but it'll be explained in later chapters.

**Alqualonde:** Actually, I started thinking about the possibility of there being an actual Mother Night while I read Daughter of the Blood, it just took me ages to sit down and do something with the idea. I'm glad you like it so far!

**Cassy:** Ehm... At least it only took me months instead of years to update. Hope you haven't given up on me!

**darkworldspirit:** You're a darling! ::hugs you, then blushes:: Sorry about that, but your reviews made me so happy...

**Silver Moon Megami:** Thank you for your review; it's good to know I'm not going overboard on description or analysis. I have this tendency to ramble, but I try to edit it out.

**worldfinder:** Glad you like Yssandra, it can be difficult to keep a powerful OC from becoming MarySue-ish. And that's _not_ what I have in mind for her!

**Liraniel:** I'm not looking for a beta at the moment, but I'll keep it in mind.

**Lady Strange:** It's not soon, but it's an update. Hope you'll find it up to standards.

**Randomgrrl22:** I hope this was worth the wait, and rest assured that chapter eight will not take more than a month.

* * *

**Chapter seven**

It was with some hesitation that Orolin sent his Light to brighten the Realms that morning. The disappointment of yesterday was still vivid in his mind, and he was reluctant to find Yssandra beyond his reach once more. Her return had been unexpected, but he had taken it in stride. Despite the randomness of her appearances, they held a certain stability; that of continuity. It was Yssandra's nature to be contrary to a true dragon – in thought as well as power. She had always come and gone as it pleased her, and Orolin had never been averse to playing the game when his mate chose to participate. It had been an unspoken agreement; one of many, but the only one that still held true.

That was why yesterday had rattled him so. It was the first time that Yssandra had ever refused him so blatantly.

Orolin acknowledged that his mate was the most headstrong female he had ever encountered, but that she would do this… It didn't make sense to him. The balance between them was fragile, and he was certain that Yssandra had sensed his withdrawal from Kaeleer. If anything, he had expected her to be eager for his attention. Her sudden discard of the game was puzzling if not yet alarming.

Therefore, it was with great relief that he settled the questing tendrils of Light around her chilled body, gently brushing her aura with his. The way Darkness clung to him assured him that all was back as it had been.

Fangs bared in a contented smile, Orolin allowed his worry to fade from memory.

* * *

When Yssandra slipped back into the Hall, still languid after her meeting with Orolin, she decided to seek out Marian. As much as she resented the fact, she needed the woman's serenity. The Kindred were good friends, the most loyal of companions… but they trusted her far too much. They believed in her on a level that made them unable to help in her present predicament. She needed human company. Needed someone who didn't care that she was Mother Night. Needed someone who could ignore her power and cut to the heart of the matter. While Draca or Jaenelle might be better suited to understand her relationship with Orolin, there were things she just wouldn't discuss with her daughters. And based on what she had seen of Marian so far, her intuition and compassion might supply Yssandra with a better answer than all the understanding in the three Realms. 

Yssandra chuckled to herself. _As if I'm going to be able to spill all my troubles today_, she thought sarcastically. _Nevertheless, it's nice to have someone I _can_ talk to. Silence by choice is not half the weight of silence by necessity. And maybe… Maybe I can find some comfort there._

She felt a human witch approaching from a connecting corridor, her presence as easily placed as her psychic scent. Wilhelmina. For a brief moment, Yssandra considered fading into the Darkness and avoiding confrontation, but with a mental snort she acknowledged that running away would contradict their tentative agreement. It would do neither of them good, even though it was easier to sidestep the issue. She kept walking, deliberately making sound so as not to surprise the woman.

"Good morning," she said when Wilhelmina rounded the corner, surprising herself with the sincerity of her greeting.

"Good morning." Wilhelmina bit her lower lip nervously. "I was just returning from breakfast. I hope you didn't skip it because of me?"

"No," Yssandra said soothingly. "I've yet to find the time to eat that early." She paused, a smile curving her lips as she replayed the memories of the morning. "I've been… entertained by other things."

Wilhelmina's mouth opened, lips forming a perfect 'o' of surprise, but no sound escaped her. Her cheeks burning, she tried again. "I understand, and I'm so sorry for the intrusion, Lady."

"Don't do that!" Yssandra snapped. "Don't tiptoe around me like I'm going to shatter you for the slightest indiscretion! Most of Jaenelle's former First Circle could kill you, but you trust them not to. Like you said last night, we don't know each other, but I do care! I came here to make peace with my kin and with myself, and harming anyone would hardly be the way to do it." She took a deep breath, making an effort to calm herself. The agitated stirring of her hair betrayed her failure. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I had no right… I will leave you alone."

She moved to the side, intending to pass by Wilhelmina. A slender hand on her arm stopped her.

"There's no reason for you to apologize." Wilhelmina let out an embarrassed laugh when Yssandra met her eyes, but her hand stayed. "You were right about me, about the Queens, all of it. I didn't see it until now, but you're just like Daemon. Everyone's so afraid of your strength they can't see you won't unleash it without provocation." She sighed. "I hope that sooner or later I'll be comfortable enough around you that your strength won't bother me, but now it makes me feel small and weak."

She was surprised to see Yssandra smile.

"You're not weak, Lady Wilhelmina. In the important ways, you are stronger than me."

Wilhelmina smiled hesitantly, obviously at a loss how to respond to the unexpected praise. "In the spirit of last night's agreement, what say you we drop the titles?" she suggested.

"I would be honored." Yssandra's smile widened at the other's flustered expression, but agreed with the change of subject. "I was going to see Marian. Perhaps you would care to join me?"

Wilhelmina shifted from foot to foot. "Are you sure I wouldn't be intruding?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise." Yssandra gave up and used her hands rather than her power to bring her unruly hair to some semblance of order. She sighed as she felt Wilhelmina's unease. "I don't know proper court protocol," she said bluntly. "I've never spent much time with humans, and it hasn't come up. I respect you, and I think that I will come to like you. If you're willing to overlook my rough edges."

The last sentence was stated jokingly, but her tone implied a question. Having grown up in a court where her sanity relied on being able to catch such subtle undertones, Wilhelmina answered with the same nonchalance.

"I've found that I prefer a rough edge to one already sharpened."

Yssandra's answering smile was dazzling. The tension drained from the young witch as they made their way down the corridor, allowing Yssandra's own temper to settle. A companionable silence enveloped the pair as they walked, both comforted by the tentative step towards friendship.

* * *

"Will you tell me what's wrong?" 

Jaenelle looked up from the book she'd been trying to read, smiling at the worry in her husband's eyes. "Nothing wrong," she retorted, "I'm just thinking about something Mother said last night."

"And?" Daemon prodded.

"And I think there are things I don't know about her, things that happened long ago. Things that still hurt her." She sighed. "Maybe she just needs time, but I wish I could help her, ease her pain."

"You said yourself that Yssandra never expected to have a chance to actually know you, or any of her family. She has a right to marvel at that gift before we start demanding things from her. You will only agitate her if you prod into the matter."

Jaenelle nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Daemon smiled, "I'm just telling you what you would have told me if it were Tersa we were discussing."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "You know me that well, do you? Then I suppose you won't be surprised if I do _this_!"

Using Craft, she lifted one of the pillows from the bed and threw it with perfect accuracy at his head. It hit with a satisfying 'poof', scattering feathers everywhere as one of the seams tore.

Daemon looked at her with a haughty expression completely at odds with the sparkle of mishief in his eyes.

"You understand this means war, Lady?"

Jaenelle's smile was predatory. "Wouldn't have it otherwise, Prince."

* * *

Marian was almost comically surprised to see who her visitors were. Jaenelle had told her that Yssandra seemed to enjoy her company, and she had been glad to ease the other's anxiety the evening before, so she wasn't completely taken aback that Yssandra had sought her out. That she'd brought Wilhelmina with her, however… No matter what words had been spoken, Marian had expected them to avoid each other – at least for a few days. 

Now, seeing the amused look the two exchanged, she had to rethink that conclusion. _Maybe I underestimated them._

"Amusing at is may be to see you flustered for once, we would like to be let inside," Wilhelmina said. In an aside to Yssandra, she sent, Perhaps you are not the only one of the family who is ignorant of proper behavior. She waited tensely for a reaction, uncertain how her attempt at humor would be received.

When Yssandra's lips curved into a smile and her chuckles echoed in Wilhelmina's mind, she relaxed and smiled back. They would be fine, she was sure of it.

"Grandma!"

Daemonar's voice cut through the brief silence and made Marian wince.

"Calm down," she scolded as she made a grab for him, but the boy easily evaded her reaching hands and launched himself at Yssandra.

The dragon caught him and twirled around before settling him on her hip.

"Good morning, little one," she said and pinched his nose, grinning as his face scrunched up. "Have you been giving your mother trouble?"

"No," Daemonar sulked. He wouldn't look at her, though.

Marian smiled in affectionate exasperation. "He's been calmer than usual, mostly chattering about his new grandmother."

Yssandra's face softened as she looked down at the boy. "Did you really?" At his reluctant nod, she hugged him tighter. "I will admit I've never had a grandson brave enough to laugh at the Caretaker of Hell before. I was very impressed."

To the adults, it sounded like flattery – and in a way it was – but it was also truth, and it made Daemonar laugh. Yssandra smiled contentedly as she followed Marian into the suite. It wasn't often she made children smile, but she could get used to it.

As they settled down in the sitting room, Yssandra with Daemonar on her lap, she was unaware of the amused looks the other two.

"I will admit I had an ulterior motive for coming here today," she told Marian, before a small tug at her hair turned her attention back to Daemonar.

"It moves," he said in wide-eyed puzzlement, waving a hand caught in strands of Darkness.

Yssandra smiled, easing her grip on her power just enough that her hair would respond more naturally to his touch. "So it does," she agreed. "The Darkness will never harm you, Daemonar, not as long as you respect it."

The boy nodded absently, caressing the long tresses that suddenly shifted over Yssandra's shoulder to curl around his hands. He laughed as one lock spilled from his hold and tickled his side.

"Yssandra?" Marian called softly when it became apparent that the dragon had forgotten their presence. Dark eyes snapped up to meet hers, and she smiled reassuringly. "You had something to ask of me?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you would allow me to spend some time with Daemonar? I understand if you don't want to leave him with me, but it's been so long since I've known a child, and Lucivar said that you wouldn't mind…"

"Of course you can. Lucivar and I will appreciate some time alone."

Wilhelmina chuckled at that, her face turning rosy at the thoughts that statement inspired. "Are you already planning on a sister for Daemonar?" she teased.

Marian smiled, unfazed. "Perhaps we just want to keep in practice."

Daemonar paused in his game and stared at his mother. "I'm getting a sister? When?"

The three females looked at each other and started laughing.

* * *

Jaenelle and Daemon lay on the bed, still laughing sporadically as they attempted to get their breath back. The room was littered with the remains of their pillow-fight, the floor flooded by a sea of fluffy white. 

"Was that a draw?" Jaenelle asked, turning her head to peer at her adversary.

Daemon smiled, weighing his options. "Possibly," he said. Glancing around the room, he added, "We might want to start cleaning this mess up, before Helene catches us."

Jaenelle's eyes widened. "She'd tell Mrs. Beale!"

"She surely would." Daemon nodded sagely, or as sagely as one can manage while lying flat on one's back.

Muttering inventive Eyrien curses under her breath, Jaenelle got to her feet and started gathering feathers. Daemon was highly amused by the fact that she didn't stop to consider using Craft to perform the task.

A knock on the door startled them both from their thoughts.

"Come in!" Jaenelle called.

Draca stepped inside, her impassive expression slipping into surprise before she regained control.

"It was an accident?" Jaenelle said tentatively.

Draca's lips twitched, but her voice came as calm as ever. "Of courssse. May I?" She waited for Jaenelle's nod before vanishing the feathers. Lorn _had_ told her that he was getting tired of the bare rock of the keep...

Jaenelle blinked, then fluffed her hair with a sheepish smile. "I didn't even think of that." She threw a glare at Daemon when he chuckled. "_Someone_ could have reminded me."

"That wouldn't have been half as much fun," he said mildly.

"If thisss isss a bad time –"

"Not at all, Draca." Jaenelle smiled reassuringly, gesturing for the dragon to sit down. "What brings you here?"

"It'sss about Mother..."

* * *

**A/N:** Please review!   
_Daughter of Night_


	9. Chapter eight

**Disclaimer:** See previous chapters.

**Author's ramblings:** I think I've finally caught my inspiration for this fic. It's now chained up in my room, and I plan to keep it there until the story is finished. ::sniffles:: Maybe that will lure the readers back...

**Warnings:** This chapter contains attempts at humor, but I'm not really used to writing that, so my apologies if you don't find it funny.

**Reviewer responses:**

**Randomgrrl122:** I'm feeling pretty good right now. Thank you for caring! ::huggles:: As a reward for still bothering with my story, here's a (reasonably) quick update!

**Lady11Occult:** Well, this chapter's more about character development than plot, but all development is good, right? ::cringes:: More plot and explanations are on their way, I promise.

* * *

**Chapter eight**

Geoffrey was abruptly pulled from his preoccupation with an old tome on the Blood's history as childish laughter rang through the library.

"Do that again! Do that again!"

A chuckle of a much deeper pitch made the old Guardian smile even before Yssandra rounded a shelf and stepped into view, Daemonar seated on her hip, Ladvarian trotting at her heels. "We'll be going back the same way, Daemonar," she promised. "Now behave, or Geoffrey won't let us come back."

Daemonar looked confused.

"But Father said that I wasn't allowed to come here."

"And that is why you can't tell him we did." Yssandra schooled her expression to perfect seriousness, but her eyes twinkled with mirth. "It's our secret, understand?"

The boy's eyes went wide at that, but he nodded vigorously. "Yes, Grandma, our secret. I won't tell."

"Such a good boy," Yssandra teased, hugging him tighter. Setting him down she gestured at Geoffrey. "This is Geoffrey, a very dear friend of mine. I'd like you to be nice to him. No pranks."

"I'll be good," Daemonar said with a smile that reminded Geoffrey far too much of Lucivar at that age.

Yssandra nodded, either oblivious to or ignoring the hint of mischief. "Geoffrey, this is Daemonar, my grandson; and I know you and Ladvarian are acquainted. We thought we'd drag you away from all these books and force you to have some fun."

"Fun?" Geoffrey asked faintly.

"Fun," Yssandra confirmed. "Mrs. Beale was kind enough to pack us a basket, and we are going on a picnic. And I've promised Daemonar there will be games." She sounded amused by the idea. "He'll be able to teach us both, I'm sure."

"But I…" Geoffrey desperately tried to think of an excuse. "I can't go outside at this time of day! Too much sun, very unhealthy for a Guardian."

"But Granddad is outside sometimes," Daemonar said, eyes wide in surprise. "Is he special?"

Yssandra ruffled his hair, while giving Geoffrey a look that told him she knew _exactly_ what he was up to.

"I suppose he is, child, but since we've promised Geoffrey can join us, I'll shield him from the Light." Her eyes glittered. "I wouldn't leave him here alone all day when we're out playing."

Geoffrey suppressed the urge to whimper and took her proffered hand. Daemonar and Ladvarian crowded close, and the Darkness swallowed them.

When the three passengers could see again, they were standing in a meadow. A loose gathering of old, majestic trees spread their branches wide, providing ample shade for Geoffrey's peace of mind. He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

_Trust Yssandra to realize it's as much the thought of being exposed as the actual pain that is unpleasant._

He watched as a blanket was spread out under one of the trees, the basket placed in the center. White stones weighed the corners down. Stones that Geoffrey with some surprise recognized as pieces of Yssandra's scales. He glanced at her, but she was smiling at Daemonar.

"What do you want to do first?" she asked. "Eat or play?"

"Play!" came the enthusiastic reply.

"Then play it is." Yssandra made a highly exaggerated bow. "Teach us a game, wise one."

Daemonar let out a peal of delighted laughter, and did as he was told.

* * *

Marian poured the tea, handing Jaenelle, Daemon and Lucivar their cups before settling down with her own. She met Jaenelle's eyes and sighed with a bit of resignation. It seemed she wouldn't have any time alone with Lucivar after all. Taking a sip of her tea, she waited for the other woman to break the silence. 

"Wilhelmina told me you spoke with my mother this morning," Jaenelle said cautiously.

"Yes, they came to see me." Marian smiled at the memory. "I was quite surprised to see them together, but they were friendly enough with each other. Is there something wrong with Yssandra? Did something happen?"

"Oh no, I was just…" Jaenelle trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

Daemon squeezed her hand and took over. "Draca came to see us. She's worried about her. Apparently there is some discord between Yssandra and her consort."

Marian blinked. "Lorn?"

"No, _Yssandra's_ consort."

"There is another dragon?" Lucivar cut in. "Just like Lorn?"

Jaenelle shook her head. "Draca said that Orolin – that's her father – is what Lorn used to be, before he accepted the Darkness into himself." She shrugged. "I'm honestly not sure what that meant."

"Yssandra didn't seem worried," Marian said thoughtfully, "not about that, at least. She was a bit nervous to ask if I'd let her watch Daemonar for us, and quite excited when I agreed."

Daemon gaped at her. "She _volunteered_ to watch him?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marian snapped.

Lucivar chuckled at the expression on his wife's face. "Yes, she did. I'll admit I was surprised to hear about it, but Daemonar is literally attached to her as soon as she's close enough for him to pounce on."

"He likes her, and as long as she doesn't spoil him beyond reason I see no harm in letting her care for him. I can't imagine what it must have been like for her, not being able to hold her own children."

"What?"

Marian chuckled at the perfectly chorused query. "I'm not stupid," she said lightly. "If Yssandra is Jaenelle's mother, then she is the mother of every true Witch. And I doubt that she has known any of them."

Jaenelle sipped her tea, trying to organize her thoughts into words. "I know she misses her wings, and that she won't allow herself to have them again. She has spoken about betrayal, but I'm not sure by whom. Perhaps Orolin did something to her, or perhaps her people turned against her. Either way, her past haunts her."

"What is it you want us to do, Cat?"

"I don't know if there is anything we _can_ do, other than give her the time to settle in here and treat her like family. I think she needs that more than she knows."

"Like family?" Daemon grinned at Lucivar. "If you're dragging her out to practice tomorrow, I want to watch."

"Daemon!"

The other three laughed at Jaenelle's outrage.

* * *

Looking at Yssandra, Geoffrey couldn't help but smile. The feared and revered Mother Night, sitting propped against a tree, one hand caressing Daemonar's hair and the other Ladvarian's fur, as they lay curled against her. She looked so content, like any grandmother having spent hours playing with a hyperactive young Eyrien. 

"It's hard to believe he's the same Daemonar, isn't it?" she asked, looking up at Geoffrey with a drowsy smile. "He's so quiet when he's asleep."

The Guardian nodded. "There doesn't seem to be much of Saetan in him. He's so like Lucivar."

"I don't know about that." Yssandra's voice was warm with affection. "Don't you remember? Saetan may be good at dignity and Protocol, but he certainly knows how to drive others mad. He's just better at not getting caught." She chuckled at some memory. "I remember when he finally relaxed into the titles of Consort and High Lord… Between him and Andulvar, I'd be hard pressed to say which side Lucivar got the mischievous streak from."

"How do you know that? You weren't…" Geoffrey's voice trailed off.

"I was stirred into awareness when Cassandra became Queen of Ebon Askavi. The whispering of her name unnerved me, though at the time I didn't understand why. I was intrigued by the young male who had become Caretaker of my Realm, so I watched him even after I sunk back into dreams."

"I did wonder," Geoffrey said thoughtfully, "when we registered a Red-Jeweled Queen called Cassandra, if she weren't one of your daughters. The strength and the name seemed to indicate it."

Yssandra watched him curiously. "What made you change your mind?"

"Cassandra was a Queen. A powerful and just Queen, worthy of ruling Ebon Askavi, but no more than that." He smiled. "She wasn't Witch."

The two looked at each other in perfect understanding.

"There's something special about Jaenelle, isn't there?" Yssandra asked quietly. "She's stronger than most of my daughters were; stronger than they had to be. I wish I could have helped her, made her life better."

"Don't," Geoffrey said. "You can't fine-tune everything. The Realms needed Jaenelle as much as they needed a powerful Witch. Perhaps her family forced her to become as strong as she is, and with an easier upbringing she wouldn't have had the strength to live."

"Yes, she would," Yssandra stated with conviction. "The dreams and wishes of the Kindred are strong, and they wouldn't have let her die."

"And you did nothing for her?" Geoffrey sighed when she looked away. "Draca told me that you brought her back to us."

"It needed to be done."

"You didn't have to give her back," he prodded gently. "She is your daughter, and she was prepared to return to you."

"She made a promise, Geoffrey." Strands of Darkness were moving restlessly. "It hurt her deeper than anything to believe she couldn't keep it. I couldn't do that to her, didn't have the right to do it." A bittersweet smile curved her lips. "She belongs here, in the Realms of Light and Darkness. My world can never be hers, no more than…"

"No more than Orolin's could be yours?"

"Yes," Yssandra whispered.

"But the Realms are yours and Orolin's," Geoffrey commented. "Maybe it is time for him to return here, as you did?"

Dark eyes haunted by the guilt of ancient memories met his. "And what would bring him here?"

Silence stretched between them, broken only when Daemonar stirred.

* * *

Lying comfortably sprawled on the couch with her head pillowed on Daemon's lap, Jaenelle looked up at her husband's beautiful, frowning face and sighed. "You can just ask." 

His hand halted its lazy finger combing of her hair, but his expression didn't change.

"Why didn't you tell them about the rest of what Draca said?"

"What good would have come of it?" Jaenelle rubbed one hand over her still flat stomach. "Mother would never do anything to hurt us, and we can do nothing about Orolin. If they cannot help, why worry them?"

Daemon frowned. "Are you so sure there's nothing we can do?"

"They hold the Realms in their hands, Daemon." Sapphire eyes locked with gold. "I didn't have a tenth of the power Mother does. Orolin has no tie to anyone but the dragons, and if Draca cannot sway him there is nothing either of us can do."

Sighing, Daemon ran a hand through his hair. "It's just… It feels wrong to do nothing."

"I know." Witch reached one hand up to caress his cheek. "Typical male," she said softly, "always thinking battle is all that matters. We're proving that we care, that the Realms are worth preserving. That's the best help we can give her."

"But –"

"No. She needs to do this if she's ever going to be at peace."

Daemon nodded slightly, and changed the subject.

"Do you think she's spending time with Daemonar just to get used to children before ours is born?"

Jaenelle smiled ruefully. "If this little one turns out half as troublesome as I was, she might need the practice. I used to drive poor Papa crazy."

" 'Poor Papa'?" Daemon repeated, incredulously. "What about the rest of us?"

Summer-sky eyes twinkled. "I like to think you've been compensated." Jaenelle curled one hand around his neck and pulled herself up to meet him in a kiss.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to remind me?"

Jaenelle shivered at the silky tone. "Always," she breathed against his lips.

* * *

**A/N:** Please review!   
_Daughter of Night_


	10. Chapter nine

**Author's ramblings:** Not much to say this time, besides that I'm getting sick of QuickEdit deleting characters and destroying my formatting... But I could rant about that all day, and I know you're not here for my witty conversation, so I'll just let you move on to the story.

**Reviewer responses:**

**Randomgrrl122:** Curious about Yssandra's history, are you :grins: Then you'll like this chapter, I'm sure - explanations ahead!

**Lady11Occult:** This chapter wasn't supposed to take so long, but real life proved very uncooperative. School is evil, and I'm just an innocent victim, honest... ;)

**Emmy:** :lol: No, no sugar; it's my _inspiration_ that's chained up, not me. I would have starved to death if I couldn't leave the comp. :makes puppy eyes: You wouldn't want that, would you?

**arkynox:** As ordered; update with explanations of why Yssandra is the way she is.

* * *

**Chapter nine**

"Good book?"

Saetan looked up, startled, to see Yssandra standing just inside the door of his room, a smile on her face.

"You didn't answer when I knocked," she explained, coming closer to settle in the chair across from him at the small table. "The aural shield should have been an inch from the door. That way, the noise won't bother you and people won't feel like they're being ignored."

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember having any appointments tonight," Saetan retorted lightly, more intrigued than annoyed by the invasion of his solitude. "What brings you here?"

Pale fingers reached up to allow dark hair to twine around them. "I promised I'd tell you about the Realms," Yssandra said quietly, "about the dragons and about me."

Saetan belatedly closed his book, laying it on the table with his reading glasses on top. He kept his movements unhurried, giving the woman time to compose herself.

"You are sure you want to do this?" he asked gently. "I will not mind."

The last comment seemed to relax her, bringing her smile back. "I think you would, although you'd try to hide it. You always were curious, probably more than was good for you."

"Probably," Saetan agreed. "But I've only ever been bored when I was being sensible. It's a fair trade. And Jaenelle's taught me to handle shock."

Yssandra shook her head, chuckling lightly. "I see why Geoffrey likes you. I didn't remember your sense of humor being that dry."

"Remember?"

"I may not have visited the Realms often since I was exiled, but I can never be cut off from them. Some things touch my dreams, and occasionally they stir me into consciousness. You and Cassandra were not the first nor the last of them." Yssandra shifted in her seat. "Her name unsettled me, but you were the one to hold my interest. Hell hasn't had more than one Caretaker from the lighter Realms before you. He was chosen by me personally, to see to the ones who'd crossed over. After him, the waiting ones have chosen their own leaders."

Saetan studied her for a moment. "Why did you make Hell?"

"I needed it."

He wanted to prod for a more detailed answer, but something in her eyes held him back. She needed to tell her story at her own pace.

"Have you ever wondered why there is no word for night in the Old Tongue?" she asked. Saetan shook his head, unsure where she was heading. "The language was evolved from draconic speech, and the dragons had no word for night. There were shadows and black mountains, but no true darkness. Dragons didn't wield the power I do, not even to the extent of the Blood. They didn't have it in them."

"But Lorn –"

"Lorn is special," Yssandra interrupted, "and he is much younger than me; barely older than Draca. They have nothing to do with the making of the Realms."

She paused to collect her thoughts; weighing her words carefully. "I don't know how Terreille and Kaeleer were made. I don't know how the dragons came to be. All I know is that they were there long before I was born." She smiled sadly. "They were beautiful, Saetan. Golden scales that shone as bright as the sun, the power of Light surrounding them in warmth. They didn't just rule the two Realms – they _were_ the Realms. The lands were void of any other life, because no one but the dragons could take sustenance from the Light."

"So the Jewels aren't colored by the dragon they come from?"

Yssandra chuckled. "No, they are as dark as their bearer need them to be. Wherever did you get that notion?"

"I've wondered about it since I first met Lorn, and realized what the Jewels are," Saetan admitted, refusing to feel embarrassed about her reaction. "So little is known of your kind."

"They are not my kind," Yssandra snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. "I have never been, nor will I ever be, one of the golden ones. And if they'd had their way, I would not call myself a dragon."

"But you are a dragon, no matter what your color."

She was grateful that Saetan made it a statement, not a question. Although he didn't yet understand the difference, it was heartening to hear that he had not separated her from the other ancients. It gave her hope for acceptance.

"In a way," she agreed, "but their power is not mine."

"You mentioned that they held Light instead of Darkness," Saetan said carefully.

Yssandra nodded and took a deep breath, as if to steel herself for what came next.

"I was born in the first night that ever fell over this world, and the Darkness came with me." She smiled bitterly. "The eternal paradox; I was born in Darkness, and yet I brought it to the world. I am its mother as well as its child; one can not exist without the other."

Saetan looked surprised. "You don't know which of you came first?"

"There is nothing to know; we are one, the Darkness and I. Dependent on and entwined with each other." She caressed her hair absentmindedly. "I doubt the dragons understood what we were back then, or even when they faded. I don't believe they wanted to understand."

"They feared you."

Yssandra tilted her head to the side, studying his face. "Not always."

She rose and walked over to the window. Staring down at the moonlit inner garden, she spoke slowly. "At first, they held nothing but contempt for me, perhaps even revulsion for my differences. I was a hatchling, too small to be a threat to the power of the dragons. But I aged, grew and darkened. My scales deepened from black to ebony, and even darker. Nights were short and far between, but as I became stronger, they grew longer. With the night came a decrease in temperature, clouds and rain, the cooler light of moon and stars. In time, rivers became lakes, lakes became oceans, and life covered the Realms."

Saetan watched her quietly, startled by what she was implying; that she was not only the mother of Draca, but of _all_ life. He couldn't find the words to ask anything.

"I was born here, and this is the Realm my power is most deeply ingrained in. We changed Kaeleer before we even thought to reach for Terreille." A soft chuckle escaped her. "There was a time when we knew humility, and allowed it to rule us."

"You mean that you knew what this change would mean before you challenged the Light?" Saetan asked. "Or was it instinctive?"

Yssandra turned that idea over in her mind, never having considered the possibility before.

"There was no challenge. It was instinct to turn my surroundings into something more accepting of my existence," she mused, "and I did not predict the full consequences of that change. Darkness wove its way into a world made from Light, and it was not without conflict. The dragon council – which was little different from the council of humans here in Kaeleer – decided that I would take a mate. A male strong enough to bind my power."

"They could – There was someone capable of doing that?" Saetan didn't know what to think.

Yssandra sighed. "No one dragon was as strong as I. If we had truly joined, Orolin would have weakened me, but ours was a joining of flesh, nothing more. There were desire and some small caring between us, but as much as opposites attract it wasn't enough to make us love. If we'd had anything in common then, I believe we could have loved, and loved deeply. As it was, we spent an age in a mating that was at best passionate and at worst resentful. Long after I'd come to my full strength, after the beginning of life, we had a daughter, Draca, who had the power of both Light and Darkness. She was given to Lorn, but unlike Orolin and I, they bonded their very souls."

Yssandra turned to look at him, and even though her face remained impassive, Saetan could read her eyes well enough to know that she was tired.

"Lorn never told you that he used to have golden scales, did he?" she asked, barely waiting for Saetan to shake his head before continuing. "He got the silver tint from joining with Draca, from taking some of her Darkness into himself. That scared them worse than anything; that his Light could fade like that, could turn as cool as mine. It was then that I was exiled under penalty of death." She snorted in a most un-ladylike fashion. "As if they would dare try and kill me. But I didn't want a fight, so I created a new home for myself; the Dark Realm. The Darkness binds it to the other Realms, and through that power I could watch my daughter."

She lapsed into silence and Saetan hesitated for several minutes before daring to break the stillness.

"Why didn't you fight them?"

Yssandra smiled humorlessly. "What was there to gain? If Jaenelle couldn't unleash her full strength against Terreille for fear of destroying the Realm, what do you think a war between Light and Darkness would do?"

Realization filled his eyes, and Saetan nodded in acknowledgement.

"You've told us before that you made Hell and the Abyss," he said, "but it was Draca who made the Blood. Why did she do that?"

Dark eyes studied him, searching his face for something he couldn't guess at. Yssandra's expression was one of mingled sympathy and resentment.

"Have you ever been hated, Saetan?" she asked. "Not simply feared or envied, but truly hated? Have you ever felt hatred for your own kin? Have you ever allowed hatred to become your world?"

He shook his head mutely, suddenly wishing Jaenelle were there. She would have been better suited to handle her mother.

Yssandra smiled. "I will tell you this; for the love you hold for my daughter, the love for my Realm, and the trust Geoffrey has in you. It is not something I want Jaenelle or anyone else to know of. At least not until she's had her child."

Saetan nodded, and she rejoined him at the table.

"I hated the dragons," she said simply. "I hated them for fearing me, for hating me, for exiling me. More than anything, I hated them for rejecting me. Hell was a lonely place, even with the hounds clamoring for my attention. Without my daughter for company, I lost myself in thoughts and memories, became unable to separate them. To escape, I made the Abyss and settled into sleep at the bottom of it."

Yssandra's hands caressed her agitated hair, and her gaze momentarily left Saetan's. It seemed to take great effort for her to look back at him.

"I slept for a long time, and I'm not sure when the dragons began to fade, but fade they did. Draca told me they seemed to loose interest in the new world, where the Light could no longer sustain them and they had to hunt to survive."

"That doesn't make sense," Saetan protested. "You said they _were_ Light; how could it suddenly not be enough? Had they darkened as Lorn did?"

"As long as the Light was pure, unmarred in its brightness, it was all they needed," Yssandra expanded. "They basked in it, breathed it, exuded it. The cycle was complete. When the Darkness came it ruptured the balance, tied parts of the Light to it and left the dragons to starve."

Saetan nodded his understanding, allowing her to continue her original line of thought.

"When they faded, they gave up their bodies, but the Light remained. So much power flowing unbridled… It was a time of great distress; for the children as well as the Realms themselves. The dragons had ruled for so long it was unthinkable that they would disappear."

"But not all of them disappeared."

Yssandra gave him an amused look. "You're thinking of Lorn and Draca."

"Them and Orolin," Saetan clarified.

"Lorn and Draca are not so simple as myself and Orolin. They are of mingled power, like all you short-lived beings." The beginnings of a glare silenced any questions Saetan would have asked. "When I woke, the dragons were gone. All but one had faded, and he had retreated into a refuge much like my Abyss. Whatever else his Sanctuary may be, it is a place of Light that can only be reached by that power. I am as incapable of entering the Sanctuary as Orolin is of entering the Abyss."

Yssandra paused, sparing another look at the window before refocusing on Saetan.

"He accepted the faded dragons' power and took it into himself. He is now the only wielder of Light, the counterweight for my Darkness."

Saetan nodded, having expected as much.

"Does he visit the Realms as you do?"

"No." There was a world of longing in that one word. "Our powers touch, and the balance has yet to do more than tremble… But he has not left the Sanctuary."

Silence fell, pensive but not awkward, and for along time neither felt compelled to break it.

"We can't give you Light, Yssandra," Saetan said eventually.

She blinked, brought out from her thoughts by his voice. A sad, grateful smile softened the grave expression on her face.

"But perhaps the warmth of life can give you comfort," he finished.

The smile grew, sadness fading into happiness.

"It already has, Saetan." Dark eyes spoke louder than her words as she repeated, "it already has."

* * *

**A/N:** Please leave a review! They make me happy!   
_Daughter of Night_


	11. Chapter ten

**Author's ramblings:** Update speed is dropping... I'm a bad, bad author. :shrugs: Oh, well, I blame school. I should be able to pick up the pace during the summer, when I just have work. Funny how work is less time-consuming than school, ne?

Everyone say a great big THANK YOU to **Randomgrrl122**, because it was her begging look that finally made me finish and post this chapter. Anyone else notice how very discouraging ffn's formatting is? More and more characters are erased every time I post a chapter. Seriously, give them two more "upgrades" and I bet we won't be able to upload _anything_.

If **callie** is still reading this, could you please e-mail me (address is in my profile)? I'd like to discuss the issues you brought up. I can't improve if you don't explain what I'm doing wrong!

**Reviewer responses:**

**Randomgrrl122:** You spoil me, saying such nice things... Not that I mind, of course! . :glomps you, then hopes she hasn't scared you off: I hope the chapter will be to your liking, and I'll see what I can do about the Yssandra/Orolin interaction you requested. The characters have been stubborn lately, and they're pulling the story in a different direction than I expected it to go. I'll try to fit them both into the next chapter!

**Lady11Occult:** There might be snippets here and there, but their bond is not intended to be a real focal point in this story. Maybe a sidefic or something, when I finally wrap this up?

**Frost:** It wasn't soon, but at least it's up. I hope you'll like it.

**lacthryn18:** So glad you're enjoying the story! Sorry for making you wait; I promise I didn't do it to be mean!

**Ann:** Well... :squirms in her chair: I haven't read Dreams Made Flesh yet, so for all I know I'm contradicting things that happened in it. If I do read it before the fic's finished, I might use ideas from the book. We'll see.

**Almadynis:** With my (rather quirky) definition of life, yes, she is. And as for the dragons... I have my little theories, which may or may not be used in this fic. :grins:

* * *

**Chapter ten**

There was a brief lull in conversation when Yssandra entered the dining room at breakfast. Several of the Hall's residents had not caught more than glimpses of the woman since her arrival, and all were curious about her. It took more effort than she cared to admit, but Yssandra kept her unhurried pace as she continued across the room, pretending ignorance of the gazes that followed her.

"Grandma!"

She couldn't stop the smile as she opened her arms to catch the young Eyrien. A twirl just to hear him laugh, and she settled him on her hip in a movement that was fast becoming habit.

"Good morning, Daemonar," she said warmly, watching in amusement as the boy tried to catch her hair. "Did you sleep well?"

He nodded distractedly, focused on the strands that kept slipping from his grasp.

Yssandra chuckled. _It seems human children are not so different from pups and kittens after all…_

"Will you sit with us?" Marian called softly from her place further down the table.

Yssandra changed her course in silent agreement, nodding to Wilhelmina as she passed her. The young woman smiled in greeting before returning her attention to her meal.

"You can have Daemonar's chair," Marian said, gesturing at the empty seat between herself and Lucivar. "I doubt he'll be using it now that you're here."

"Is that so?" Yssandra looked down at the boy, but he was too occupied to notice. She shook her head slightly, suppressing a chuckle. Sitting down and shifting Daemonar into a more comfortable position on her lap, she asked, "I hope you had a good time while we were away yesterday?"

Marian blushed; Lucivar smiled in a very male way, although his eyes were gentle. Yssandra considered that answer enough.

"I did promise we'd be grateful if you took him off our hands now and then, didn't I?" Lucivar retorted. He frowned slightly at the meager collection of fruit Yssandra put on her plate, but didn't comment. "I heard you went on a picnic. Did he behave himself?"

Daemonar sat up a little straighter at that, uncertain if he had. He thought so, but sometimes he got yelled at when he'd tried to be good. And some people left it to his parents to scold him.

Dark strands caressed his fingers soothingly as Yssandra turned a warm smile at him. Grinning back, Daemonar relaxed.

"Of course he did," Yssandra said. "He taught us games, we ate, and then he and Ladvarian took a nap."

"A nap!"

Marian and Lucivar exchanged surprised glances.

"Daemonar _slept_ in the middle of the day?" Marian said skeptically.

Yssandra nodded. "I think Geoffrey was rather tempted to join them, but his dignity got in the way. I've left the poor boy alone for too long if he's gotten such silly notions."

"You and Geoffrey played games?" Lucivar chuckled. "I didn't think it was possible to get him away from his books, let alone out of the Keep."

"I'm sure he knows how he wants to live his life," Marian rebuked him.

"Geoffrey lives as he thinks he should, as he believes his duty demands of him," Yssandra disagreed. "He is the first of the Guardians, and he won't give up thinking it means he's supposed to serve me. I'm trying to… discourage that idea." She sighed. "One day, he'll see that there is no such things as serving between friends."

The Eyriens didn't comment, knowing there was little they could say. Neither of them could claim to actually _know_ Geoffrey, and therefore they had no advice to offer. There was some rustling of wings as they shifted in their seats, the silence growing uncomfortable.

A tug on her hair made Yssandra look down.

"Why do grownups always do that?" Daemonar asked.

Yssandra frowned. "Do what?"

"That!" He gestured at both his parents. "That silent thing so you know you've done something wrong, and they won't tell you what it is, and expect you to figure it out."

Another second of silence, then all three adults burst out laughing. Daemonar stared at them in bemusement, not understanding what was so funny. Growing impatient, he gave Yssandra's hair another tug.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I'm not sure. Maybe you'll do the same when you're grown."

He frowned. "When's grown?"

Yssandra looked helplessly at Marian, completely at a loss.

"When you've made the Offering," Marian said. _Though if you're anything like the rest of the males in this family, there'll probably always be a part of you that doesn't grow up._

Daemonar nodded, satisfied with that explanation, and proceeded to count on his fingers how much longer that would be.

Yssandra returned her attention to her breakfast, nibbling on the fruit with interest. She had little need for sustenance other than what she ate at dinner each day, but she could enjoy the taste. Most of the fruits and vegetables she'd been served at the Hall hadn't even existed when she'd last lived in the Realms.

As she finished the last slice of what she thought was a melon, she looked around the room. A slight frown marred her brow as she studied the seating arrangements. Thinking back over the past few days, she realized that it had always been that way; she just hadn't noticed it before.

"Why does Surreal sit so far from the rest of the family?"

Marian smiled slightly. "It's not that she isn't welcome, just that… Where she goes, Falonar goes, and it's never a good idea to let him and Lucivar too close. Surreal keeps her distance so we can all eat in peace."

"I thought you worked well together?" Yssandra turned a curious gaze to Lucivar.

"We do," he confirmed with an unrepentant smile, "but it seems we can only be civil for so long when we're not training or fighting someone else."

Marian sighed exasperatedly. "They're males, Yssandra. That's all the reason they need not to get along."

Yssandra ruffled Daemonar's hair. "I'm not sure about that," she countered. "_Some_ males are very charming and well-behaved."

Golden eyes watched her with surprise – as if Daemonar couldn't quite understand that she meant him – then a wide grin nearly split his face in two. He hugged Yssandra tightly.

"You're the best, Grandma!"

Yssandra hugged him back, smiling as she quirked an eyebrow at Marian to say 'I told you so'.

She was about to speak when a movement further down the table caught her attention. Jaenelle had just stood up and was now walking towards them. Yssandra had a second of panic before resigning herself to the fact that her daughter would not be avoided any longer.

"Good morning, Mother," Jaenelle said cheerfully. "I'm glad to see you were able to join us."

There was just enough suggestion in her tone that Yssandra's hair twitched.

"I'm… growing accustomed to the differences between the Realms and the Abyss," she replied, keeping her voice as casual as she could. "I trust you understand the difficulties of that adjustment."

A slight blush rose in Jaenelle's face, but she was undeterred. "I was hoping I could have a word with you before you run off to Geoffrey or with Daemonar."

_Which means she knows I've been avoiding her, and won't let it slide without an explanation._ Yssandra sighed. _I might as well get this said._

"That will be fine," she agreed.

Rising to her feet, she sat Daemonar on the vacated chair, resisting the urge to smile at his petulant expression. She knelt to put them at equal height and met his eyes. Strands of Darkness pulled out of his hands and settled out of reach at her back.

"I need to talk with Jaenelle, but if your parents don't mind, we can play this afternoon." She glanced up at Lucivar.

"Any time you want, as long as you don't interrupt practice," the Eyrien said.

Daemonar turned that over in his mind. "Can Geoffrey come with us? He was nice."

Yssandra smiled warmly. "Sure. We might have to kidnap him again, but he'll come."

"Yes!" The boy grinned happily. "We can teach him more games!"

"Then I'll see you later."

Yssandra nodded to Lucivar and Marian and followed Jaenelle from the dining room, not surprised when Daemon drifted after them.

Out in the hallway, they paused to let Daemon catch up. Jaenelle glanced at her mother and fluffed her hair nervously. "Would you rather we discussed this alone? I can speak with Daemon later."

Yssandra shook her head. "I have no argument with your mate, daughter. He can stay or leave as he pleases." She gave the approaching male a reassuring smile. "If you want to hear this, you're welcome."

"I'm staying," Daemon said, linking his arm with Jaenelle's.

The woman tried to glare at him and mumbled some choice words about territorial males, but finally just sighed. Nodding at Yssandra, she pulled her husband along as she stalked back to their suite.

Once they were inside, Daemon Black-locked the door and placed an aural shield on it for good measure. Seeing Yssandra's raised eyebrow, he explained, "So no one else listens in."

"I assume you want to know why I've been avoiding you?" Yssandra asked when it became obvious neither of the humans would be the one to break the silence. She paused long enough for them to nod. "I don't need to see you like this to be aware of you. Nothing the Darkness touches is hidden from me. In the Abyss, the knowledge is like whispers I can't help but listen to, but when I'm in the Realms it is much stronger. When I'm here the murmurs fill my mind and make me feel less lonely. And the ones I care most for always rise above the everyday din."

"But why not take the opportunity to see us in person?" Jaenelle looked puzzled rather than hurt, and Yssandra was grateful for it. "Is it that you don't want us to see you?"

Yssandra shook her head. "You're pregnant."

Jaenelle blinked. "I know. Is that a problem?"

"Not in itself." Yssandra gathered her thoughts, trying to force them into words. "Darkness is always thicker around me. I'm not sure how that… concentration would affect a life that's still forming."

"It doesn't affect us; it hasn't affected Daemonar," Daemon pointed out. "Why would it affect our child?"

"Life is a blending of Light and Darkness. Until the amounts have settled and reached the harmony that's unique for every living being, I believe they will be sensitive to changes in their surroundings."

Jaenelle paled slightly. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know. I've always avoided pregnant females." Yssandra absently toyed with a few locks of hair, weighing the possibilities. "The child would draw more Darkness into herself than she was intended to have, but I can't predict how it would change her. She could become like you, too powerful to be safe in herself; or more like a Guardian than the ordinary Blood."

Jaenelle's mouth formed a silent 'oh', but Daemon's eyes narrowed.

"'She'?" he queried softly.

Inwardly, Yssandra cursed her slip. "I didn't mean to tell you."

"But you're certain we're having a girl?"

"Yes."

Daemon and Jaenelle shared a smile.

"We won't have to decide if we should pick a name after Papa or Lucivar, then," Jaenelle said with mock relief.

Daemon nodded. "I'm glad we can put that off for another couple of years."

Jaenelle's eyes widened. "You expect me to do this again in two years? Do you see Marian rushing to get pregnant again?"

Daemon would have retorted, but Yssandra – who remembered plenty about the tempers of males and pregnant females – interrupted.

"As interesting as this is, I have a date with an impatient Eyrien, and I'd prefer not to keep him waiting." Two pairs of eyes focused on her, suddenly serious. "I intend to keep my distance for another month or two, until your daughter is settled. After that, I would be happy to fuss over you."

Jaenelle's nose crinkled at the word 'fuss', but she didn't object.

Yssandra rose and brushed a kiss on each one's forehead. "Don't worry so much, Jaenelle. I won't return to the Abyss."

The young woman smiled at that. "Good, because I don't know how I would have dragged you back out."

Yssandra chuckled.

"Take care of yourselves."

Darkness swirled, and she was gone.

Ever so slowly, Daemon and Jaenelle turned to face each other, both looking equally stubborn. Gold locked with summer sky, and Daemon arched a brow in silent invitation. Jaenelle took the bait.

"I'm the one carrying her; I should be allowed to name her!"

And on that… _diplomatic_ note, negotiations began.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews are used to feed the starving muses!   
_Daughter of Night_


	12. Chapter eleven

**Author's ramblings:** I'm a bad, bad person... I'm sorry for how this all turned out. I had hoped this would be a summer of updates, but my life just didn't cooperate with that. :pouts: I can't even say it won't happen again, because we all know by now that it will. 

On a more cheerful note, I've moved my homepage (some people may already know this). The new address is www . iv-haven . net 

Hope you'll come have a look! 

**Reviewer responses:**

**Randomgrrl122:** :munches happily: Cookies! Good ones! And now I feel guilty for not giving you much mention of Orolin in this chapter... But the next one will be the rest of Yssandra's history, and then I'll hopefully get this fic to obey me again. Possibly. 

**Lady11Occult:** I hope the name choosing scene will live up to expectations, but I kept getting off the actual subject, so it's not as long as it once was... And thank you for the praise:puts the stars on her wall: 

**Ann:** As I told Randomgrrl, Yssandra's history is next, and then we should have some input from Orolin. The stubborn bastard... :ahem: As for his dragon body, I'll remind you that Yssandra gave hers up, and that she had her human-looking body in the Abyss. I really can't see Orolin giving his up, can you? 

**nikkila:** Is it getting crowded in here, or is it... Oh, yes, that's just my ego inflating. :hugs: Thank you so much for the praise, and I apologize for not updating sooner! 

**AddictedtoYourStory:** I'm doing my best to finish it, I promise! It should end at 15 or 16 chapters, in case you're interested. :frowns: But then again, what I have planned for chapter 12 was supposed to be in chapter 9... Maybe you shouldn't trust my calculations. :lol:

* * *

**Chapter eleven**

Yssandra left the Darkness, closing her eyes as sunlight washed over her. She had decided to walk the last mile to the Keep and enjoy the Realm rather than appearing inside Geoffrey's beloved library. 

There was really nothing that felt like the Realms. The whispers of the Darkness were always heard no matter where she went, but Light rarely touched her anymore. When in the Realms, even her own dark Hell, the tides tugged at her. The shifting of power as Light and Darkness advanced and withdrew was never so keenly felt as when she walked in the midst of the dance where no one led and no one followed. 

Light became tangible, brushing against her bare arms in soft caresses. Yssandra smiled at the touch. It was more soothing than enticing, and she took comfort from it. 

_The Darkness craves the Light_, she mused, _and the Light craves the Darkness. Are we doomed to exist in that longing? Sometimes, I wonder if it had not been better if I had challenged the Council when they forced us together. I was too young to win, but they might have killed me. It would have spared us all so much pain._

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought in a very human manner. 

_No. They would have faded even without me. Bored with their Realms, tired of life, they would have chosen the only kind of Death they knew whether I had lived or not. And if I hadn't, there would have been no life as the Realms know it. There would have been no Draca, no Jaenelle. No Daemonar or Wilhelmina or Saetan or Daemon or Marian or Lucivar. Nothing but the remnants of the dragons. Pure Light; unshackled, unfelt, and unneeded. All I've done haven't been wrong anymore than all Orolin's actions have been right._

Yssandra allowed her sandals to dissipate. She'd copied them from one of the witches at the Hall, but she wasn't vain enough to wear something just because she found it pretty. The high heels made her walk strangely, off balance. And the feel of grass under her bare feet was much more pleasant. 

Absently willing away the Darkness that curled around her, she looked up at the sun. 

_We've both made mistakes. Sooner or later, you will have to set your pride aside and face the consequences._

* * *

"No!" 

Jaenelle glared at her husband, silently deciding that when the discussion was over, she'd tell him – as publicly as possible – that he was looking a bit peaky. With luck, Lucivar would help her force tonics down the stubborn idiot's throat. 

"Why not?" she snapped. 

Daemon stopped his pacing, sending her an incredulous look. "That should be obvious!" 

_There is that mild invigorating potion I made for Saetan last month. He says it's too strong for him, but Daemon should be able to handle it quite nicely…_

"It _obviously_ isn't, or I wouldn't be asking!" she said aloud. "Give me one good reason why I can't name her Cassandra, and _maybe_ I'll think about it." When he looked about to protest, she sweetly continued, "Or I will call her Dorothea." 

That made any further protest die in a choking noise. Jaenelle snorted as Daemon finally began to consider the name seriously. 

_Males._

"I don't want our daughter to bear the name of a jealous bitch who never forgave you for being stronger than she was," he said eventually. 

Sapphire eyes met his. "What makes you think so badly of her? What did she do to you, or to anyone else?" 

"I've heard about what she –" 

Witch's eyes chilled. "You of all people should know better than to listen to tales, _Prince Sadi_. Enough lies have been spoken of you and of me to make us both monsters if we were to believe them." She paused, watched the words strike home. "What did you think of her when you met her?" 

Daemon blinked. "She was pleasant company, once we realized that neither of us wanted to hurt you. She got you out of Terreille, and I suppose she helped to ease the way between me and Father. But even if I ignore all I've been told at the Hall, I know she didn't come to see you once after you set up court." 

"Cassandra had some difficulty understanding the difference between being powerful and being Witch, but she gave her life to help me with the Purge. She was a good Queen of Ebon Askavi, a Queen Saetan and Andulvar were proud to serve, a Queen they mourned after her supposed death. She was strong, and isolated by that strength. She lacked the self-confidence to feel safe with Saetan, and she was terribly lonely. She was my friend before I met either you or Saetan, and she helped keep me sane until I healed after Terreille." She stood, deciding that Daemon may have been on the right track with the pacing. She needed to do _something_, not just sit and talk. "What is so wrong about wanting to honor her?" 

"Nothing," he admitted. He watched her carefully, a slight frown marring his face as he took in her defensive stance. "That's not all of it, is it?" 

Jaenelle sighed. "No. I owe her, Daemon. I owe her so much, and I'll never get the chance to repay her." She paused, wrung her hands in an uncharacteristic show of distress. "She became a Guardian so she could help the next Witch adjust to the responsibility and the power of being Queen of Ebon Askavi. She spent all those years without any real friends just so she could be my teacher, and I chose Saetan over her. I robbed her of her purpose, I made her feel like less than she was, and she had every right to hate me. Instead, she gave her life to help me purge the Blood." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I want to show everyone that I respected her, even if she will never know it." 

The sincere regret settled the argument. Daemon had too much of it himself not to do what he could to give Jaenelle peace of mind. And if she felt she'd failed Cassandra, then nothing would convince her otherwise. 

Taking her into his arms, he said softly, "We'll call her Cassandra."

* * *

"Don't you think it's time you found a mate?" 

Geoffrey nearly spilled the yarbarah he was sipping. His wide-eyed gaze snapped to Yssandra, half-reclining on a chaise she'd conjured. 

"A what?" 

Yssandra smiled gently. "A mate, Geoffrey. Haven't you ever wanted someone to talk to, someone to share your life with? Books can be useful, amusing, even precious, I'll give you that, but never sentient." 

"I am content with my life," he countered. 

Yssandra nodded, watching him pensively. "But are you happy?" 

"It doesn't matter." Geoffrey tried to smile reassuringly, but the small sigh that escaped him failed the attempt. "I don't have time for a mate. And even if I did, what use would a Guardian have of such a bond?" 

"Not all relationships are sexual, Geoffrey." Yssandra tilted her head. "Is that all that stands in your way?" 

He shook his head, sipped his yarbarah and tried to think of an evasion. "It is how things are." 

Yssandra's expression hardened, her eyes filling with some dark emotion that Geoffrey was reluctant to name. 

"You are not a servant," she said, her voice a deep, resonating rumble that couldn't have come from a human throat. "You needn't be a Guardian forever." 

Geoffrey smiled. "Even you have limits, Yssandra. You can't undo the transition. There is too little Light left in me for you to simply pull back the Darkness." 

"I could bargain for the Light you need." 

"Orolin would not look kindly on the suggestion. The price would be higher than I would allow you to pay." He shrugged gracefully. "I don't think I would want to be living again. As much as it will pain me to see Jaenelle's generation pass away, someone will need to help Saetan keep their descendants in check." 

Yssandra nodded, conceding the point. A small smirk curved her lips. 

"Saetan finds you attractive." 

"Yssandra!" 

She blinked innocently. "I'm just saying that you are comfortable in each others' company. It might be a possibility." 

"I disagree." Geoffrey didn't know if he should be horrified, offended, or simply embarrassed. He ended up with a jumble of all three. "And I would appreciate if you never brought it up again." 

"He likes your dusty old books, too." 

Not for the first time, Geoffrey wished he had the ability to disappear.

* * *

Yssandra stood perfectly still, even her hair had ceased moving. Her head was tilted back, her dark eyes staring unseeingly at the sun. 

She'd had lunch with Daemonar, and then spent three hours wondering if she should have followed Marian's advice not to give the boy anything sweet. The meal had certainly given him energy. Thankfully, chasing flying objects made of Darkness had tired Daemonar out enough that he hadn't objected when she sent him back to the Hall with Kaelas for an escort. 

Yssandra hadn't moved since they left, but simply stood there. Thinking about Orolin, their past, their possible future. 

She had come to a simple conclusion; she was tired of the game. So tired, that she would do almost anything to end it. But then there were the children to think of… Especially her precious daughters, and the granddaughter that would soon be born. That meant there could be no war. And if the game was over, there was only one path left – the path of reconciliation. Whether she wanted it or not, a compromise had to be reached. 

"What would it take?" she said slowly. "What would bring you back to the Realms?" 

There was no answer, not even a flicker of Light. She stood there for a long time, waiting, hoping… Yet knowing that it was in vain. Just as it had been every time before. 

"Yssandra?" 

She didn't look at the speaker. "Yes, Wilhelmina?" 

"I've been weeding the herbs, and I saw you… Are you alright?" 

Yssandra blinked, startled by the question. She turned her gaze to the young woman. "I was just thinking about something. I'm fine." 

Wilhelmina hesitated. "Did you clear things up with Jaenelle? I noticed you left breakfast together." 

"We've come to an understanding, an agreement of sorts." She tilted her head slightly. "I did not think anyone had noticed we haven't spoken much." 

"I've had years to watch people avoid my sister," Wilhelmina retorted, her voice sharp with old bitterness. "I can't help but notice it." She looked away and shifted the basket on her arm. "My apologies. I know you're not like them." 

The silence stretched between them, increasingly uncomfortable. 

"Do you blame me?" Yssandra asked quietly. 

Wilhelmina seemed genuinely surprised. "Blame you? For what?" 

"For making Jaenelle different. Without me, she would have been an ordinary witch, perhaps dark-Jeweled, but nothing unique or threatening enough to draw so much attention." 

Caught by the dragon's solemn tone, Wilhelmina gave the question the consideration it deserved. A careless answer, even if it were an encouraging one, would not help Yssandra. 

Slowly, Wilhelmina shook her head. "No, I don't blame you." Her gaze held Yssandra's, speaking louder than words of her sincerity. "Jaenelle wouldn't have been safer if she'd been weak. Without her, more witches would have been killed or broken." She covered her Sapphire ring with her other hand. "I would never have been allowed to wear the Sapphire in Beldon Moor." She drew a shaky breath, trying to chase away the chill of memory. "I can't fault you for giving flesh and power to the dreams of the Blood. Without Witch, the Blood would have destroyed each other and the land. If Jaenelle weren't Witch, she wouldn't have found Daemon. She suffered, but she saved us and she found a husband to be happy with. I'm certain she has no regrets beyond wishing she could have helped sooner." She smiled. "I see no blame." 

Yssandra smiled back, feeling a deeper warmth than that of the sun seep into her. Acceptance was a rare thing, but Wilhelmina offered it freely. 

"You have strength beyond your Jewels, Wilhelmina, never forget that. I'm glad to know you, and proud to call you friend." 

The woman blushed faintly, but she spoke briskly. "We should get going. Mrs. Beal doesn't delay her meals for anyone, and I still need to change for dinner." 

Yssandra nodded, and they made their way back to the Hall with pleasant small talk about herbs and their uses in cooking. Yssandra found the subject fascinating, since she'd never tried her hand at cooking. 

When she revealed that particular fact, Wilhelmina laughed. 

"That would explain where Jaenelle got her lack of skill," she said once she'd calmed down. "She can mix the most complex potions, but put her in a kitchen and she can barely make a pot of tea." 

Yssandra smiled wistfully. "I have heard of her less successful experiments, but I wish I could have been here to see it. Knowing through the Darkness is different even though it's just as accurate." 

"Perhaps we can convince her to give it another try. And if you're interested in learning yourself, I'd be happy to help." Wilhelmina chuckled at the other female's expression. "I might not be an expert, but I've never given anyone food poisoning." 

Yssandra nodded. "I would appreciate it."

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews would be... No, scratch that. I feel guilty just **thinking** about asking for feedback. Let's say that if I'm a good little author and get chapter 12 out in three weeks, **then** I've earned reviews. Sound fair to you?   
_Daughter of Night_


	13. Chapter twelve

**Author's note:** Funny how things slip your mind, isn't it:ducks flying tomatoes: Or maybe not so funny. Either way, I've been caught up in other things and more or less forgot about posting here. I have no excuse, and thus won't try to make any.

Thanks to eveyone who reviewed, and a special thanks to **Randomgrrl22** for not losing faith - and if this happens again, feel free to e-mail me (address in profile) and tell me I'm being a complete airhead. I hope you will enjoy this addition!

From now on, telepathic conversation will be written like /this/ since the little stars are no longer allowed.

* * *

**chapter twelve**

The sun was setting, its lower edge just barely teasing the western horizon. It shone with fiery color now, not the white brilliance of daytime.

From her perch on the roof of the Hall, Yssandra looked at it and smiled.

It had been a day of talking, a day of too much thinking, and the night would bring more of both, since she had promised Saetan the rest of her tale. But it was not yet night, only dusk – a time that belonged to neither Light nor Darkness.

Yssandra had decided it would be a time of action.

Unseen tendrils of power reached out to mingle with the retreating Light, caressing the bright beams delicately. For a moment the sun quivered, hesitated on its path before sinking once more. But it moved slower now, caught in a sensuous web woven by pure Darkness.

"Had you forgotten this?" Yssandra whispered. "Had you forgotten that we don't need physical shape to feel pleasure?"

No answer reached her ears or her mind but strands of Light reluctantly returned her touch. It was more of an acknowledgement of her presence than an admission of her power, but it was enough. For now.

"I will not ask you to come to me," Yssandra said, her voice stronger than before. "I cannot ask, for I am as proud as you. But I will ask that you let our daughter live. Don't destroy her because I am her mother."

She sharpened her power, nipping at the last rays of the sun, and felt Orolin shudder. Felt it as clearly as if they'd been pressed skin to skin. Her lips curved into a satisfied smirk as she gave a final, soothing caress.

"When you're ready for more, let me know."

There was a gentle brush against the edges of her mind, a faint, fleeting touch that pulled back before she could identify it. Deceptive or not, Yssandra was certain that Orolin had attempted to speak with her.

She lingered until she could no longer feel the Light. With a little sigh, she passed through the Darkness into Saetan's room.

_He'll puzzle over that for days_, she thought as she took a seat in the chair already pulled out for her.

"Do I even want to know?" Saetan said dryly after seeing her expression.

"Perhaps, but I'm not telling." She smiled as charmingly as she could. "And I doubt that is the tale you wanted to hear tonight."

"True enough."

Yssandra pulled her hair over her shoulder, braiding it absently as she started to speak. "I believe we got as far as the fading of the dragons," she waited for Saetan's nod, "and my subsequent return to the Realms."

"I asked why Draca made the Blood, and you changed the subject."

"My hatred for the dragons had everything to do with your creation." She tied her braid off, her movements agitated. "My mind was a brittle, fractured thing when I retreated to the Abyss. I was incapable of separating thought from memory, truth from lie. In my sleep, dreams came to me. Dreams that held my fear, my pain, my anger. Dreams that rarely allowed me to hope the Realms had any kindness to offer me."

Saetan frowned, remembering when Cassandra brought Jaenelle to Kaeleer. Physically and mentally traumatized, the girl had slipped into a coma. Hearing about Yssandra's nightmares made him wonder if Jaenelle had been plagued with similar things.

He was pulled out of his musings by a gentle hand taking his, and looked up to see Yssandra smile at him.

"Jaenelle didn't dream such things. She has faith in humans, and she isn't selfish enough to fall into the self-pity I do."

Saetan smiled back, tightening his grip on her hand before allowing her to pull back. "There are worse things to be than selfish," he said.

"Is there?" Yssandra queried, more to herself than to him.

He would have replied, but she shook her head slightly, dismissing the thought.

"I slept for longer than you've been alive. That was more than enough time for dream and memory to become so tightly intertwined that I couldn't separate what torment the dragons had inflicted on me from the one I only feared. I hated the Light, and I wanted vengeance."

She waited, wondering if she had revealed enough for Saetan to understand, but he merely looked interested, not frightened.

"Life is similar to the Realms," she continued. "It is all a mingling of Light and Darkness."

His eyes widened. "You… You _killed_…"

Yssandra's smile was mirthless. "I became what the dragons were before the fading. A predator. I slaughtered and fed, tortured and hated." She closed her eyes, a deep breath escaping her in a shaky sigh. "Draca gave her strength to make the Blood, to cause the imbalance of Light and Darkness that give you power. When confronted with children more like me, children of Darkness, I managed to regain control of my mind. I knew what I had done, and I couldn't stand it. My body was stained in the blood of my children, and it disgusted me." Her eyes reopened, focusing on Saetan as she tugged at her braid. "I made this form as a reminder and returned my true body to the Abyss."

For a long time, the two looked at each other. Saetan wanted to speak, wanted to leave; but he was too thrown by Yssandra's revelation to manage either.

"That is why you whisper my name like a curse," Yssandra said quietly. "That is why nearly everyone fears me out of instinct. Your minds don't remember, but the Light in you does."

She sighed, rising to her feet. "I will leave. Perhaps –"

"Wait," Saetan interrupted. He still looked uncomfortable, and Yssandra certainly didn't blame him for it, but also determined. "Tell me what happened then."

Startled, hopeful eyes met his, and he nodded in encouragement. Yssandra hesitantly sank down into her chair again.

"I wanted to make amends," she said thoughtfully, as if she was considering her words as they were spoken. "I opened Hell to you, but it was difficult for those who carried strong Light with them to cross over. The greater the imbalance favored Darkness, the simpler for you to enter my Realm. I meant it as a place for regrets, so that the dead would not be fully gone until they were at peace. A second chance for both the aggressor and the victim. For some, it worked well. For others, it provided them a chance to cause more pain to their own kin."

Saetan couldn't help but think of Hekatah. _What would the Realms be like had she not become demon-dead?_

He pushed the thought away when Yssandra continued.

"I was almost as uncomfortable around humans as they were around me, so I kept away from them and found few friends among them. I spent a few centuries with the Kindred, as they were the only ones to welcome me among them and treat me with something other than distrust, but I grew weary of loosing such dear friends. When I retreated back into the Abyss, I forbade them to speak my name, to pass it on to their children. I wanted to isolate myself from them, from the pain of loving them. The human Blood had already forgotten, and I was little more than a title whispered in fear or awe, much like I've been during your lifetime. Only the Kindred remembered that I once walked among them."

Yssandra fell silent, her gaze drifting to the window. She seemed lost in memory, and Saetan didn't dare disturb her. It was a long time before she spoke again.

"After I gave life to the first Witch, sending her to the womb of a woman who would never bear children of her own, I longed to return to the Realms. From time to time, I went to Kaeleer to see her, but I could never know her like I wanted to. She was meant for the physical Realms, and I had no place there. Perhaps I never did." She shrugged slightly. "I slept, stirring only when the Realms called for a new Witch. In that sleep I lost myself, forgot my name, my purpose for being. When Cassandra became Queen of Ebon Askavi, the whispering of her name unsettled me. Now I realize it was because her name is so much like my own, but then it was just an annoyance. She didn't matter, and I didn't even bother to point out the error of calling her Witch when she was no daughter of mine."

Yssandra turned to meet Saetan's eyes. This time, her eyes held no power but he still found that he could not look away.

"You intrigued me," she admitted. "You had no obligation towards my Realm or the waiting ones, you didn't care for the prestige or the power of the title – and yet you took the responsibility and carried it with more honor than many. When you asked to be a Guardian, I couldn't refuse."

Saetan started at that. "Asked? Is that what the ritual was?"

"Yes." She frowned. "It is a complex working of power, but simply put I replaced some of your Light with Darkness."

"What are the demon-dead, then? Completely void of Light?"

Yssandra nodded, smiling in approval. "Exactly. That is why Guardians are not as affected by the sun, and why you are able to heal injuries. Life takes both kinds of power, Saetan, and imbalance makes it fragile."

"But you are alive," he pointed out. "Orolin is alive."

"Are we?" she retorted. "Or are we simply the sentiences of powers too great to be inanimate?" She gestured at herself. "The clothes I wear are made from Darkness. This body is a creation of Darkness. My hair moves because Darkness answers to me, reflects my moods." There was no power in her eyes, but something so alien that Saetan doubted even Witch could understand it. "I could steal the Darkness from you. I could reclaim Draca's gift and turn Blood to landens. I could call all Darkness to my hand and dissolve life." Her eyes softened, becoming something more human. "But I love my children, and I have no intention of giving in to hatred again. You are safe from me."

"And Orolin?"

Yssandra looked pained. "He is rupturing the balance."

"Can we do anything to help?"

"No. He has no affection for the children. He cares only for dragons, and he hopes a separation of Light and Darkness will bring his kin back."

Saetan steepled his fingers, his eyes intent upon hers. "Jaenelle once said that we're all dragons under the skin."

His words brought a smile to Yssandra's face.

"I pulled her strength, the Darkness of her life, from deep inside of me. Even before she had the wisdom to handle her knowledge, she saw things I had never thought about. The dragons were Light, and I am Darkness. As life stems from both, I suppose she was right."

"But it is not enough to sway Orolin." Saetan made it a statement rather than a question, but Yssandra nodded anyway.

"I thought that Draca and Lorn would be motivation enough, but he seems to believe they could survive the changes." She sighed. "I am not so certain. They blended their powers, and found a balance similar to yours. Their life is strong, but if the Realms are sundered they will have nowhere to go."

She leaned forward, bracing her elbows against the table as she hid her face in her hands. She looked so broken that Saetan felt a surge of sympathy for her. While he was still shocked to know that she had turned her strength against the inhabitants of the Realms, he was no stranger to killing, or to regret. Watching her as she spoke had assured him that she was honest when claiming she wouldn't loose control again.

Yssandra looked up, surprised, when he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She managed a shaky smile in return for the compassion in his eyes.

"I won't fear you," Saetan said. "I have seen nothing to make me believe you mean us harm, no matter what your past."

The smile widened. Yssandra rose and brushed a kiss against his cheek. "I thank you," she whispered, and left him to his thoughts.

The first thing Yssandra saw when she stepped through Saetan's door into the corridor was a large white cat. Without questioning how he'd known to be there, she knelt and hugged him.

"He forgave me, Kaelas. I told him about the rage and _he forgave me_."

The Arcerian licked her cheek, warmth flooding his mind-voice. /You were never to blame. The Blood are the Caretakers of the land, and you recognized them./

Yssandra hugged him tighter before letting go and rising to her feet. Her hair had escaped the braid and was moving restlessly, long strands twisting around each other. Her eyes sparkled with more than joy. The acceptance Saetan had offered made her feel practically light-headed with relief; the burden of guilt suddenly easier to bear.

"I need… I need to be outside," she said breathlessly. A small flexing of power, and Kaelas found himself outside, blinking in momentary disorientation.

They hadn't left Kaeleer, that much he was certain of, but what Territory they were in, he couldn't say. It was a wide plain, only sparsely disrupted by gentle hills and groves of trees.

By the time he'd made that assessment, Yssandra had already moved away from him. Her laughter filled the air, bright as the stars and soothing as moonlight. Strands of Darkness swirled around her, dancing in perfect complement to the movements of her body.

"Dance with me, Kaelas," she invited. "Dance as the Kindred have always done… as the humans have forgotten how…"

Needing no further encouragement, the great cat joined her. They were a beautiful sight; Kaelas' fur as pale as Yssandra's skin, both of them glowing against the Darkness.

Draca watched them, smiling at their obvious happiness even as she declined the offer to join the dance. It warmed her to see that Saetan had been able not to place the blame on her mother. Coupled with her own guilt, such an accusation might have crushed her, even if it was spoken in disillusionment and not in truth.

_And no matter what wordsss were ssspoken, he mussst have been disssappointed that Mother Night isss neither infallible nor benevolent. It took ssstrength to look beyond that, ssstrength of a kind rarely appreciated in the Blood. _

_Asss much asss I wish it didn't have to happen, perhapsss thisss isss a good time for the confrontation._

She sighed slightly.

_Perhapsss thisss generation can give Mother the ssstrength to see thisss through._

She looked to the east, wondering how long it would be before Light flooded the Realm again.

_Perhapsss it isss time I ssspoke to Father…_


	14. Chapter thirteen

**Author's note:** In this chapter draconic speech will be in **bold,** since none of the markers I tried work. :grumbles: I hate this...

* * *

**chapter thirteen**

The room was quiet, reflecting its owner's pensive mood perfectly. It was a silence meant to last, a silence filled with the memory of words spoken and the anticipation of words yet unsaid. A silence so thick that the door opening and closing didn't even cause a ripple in it. The uninvited guest slipped into the recently vacated chair and looked at Saetan, patiently waiting for him to come out of his thoughts.

Eventually, he did.

"Do you know what she told me, witch-child?"

Jaenelle shook her head, knowing her voice had no place in the room. Not that night.

"Your mother seems to share your talent for dissolving my convictions," Saetan said in a grumpy tone completely at odds with the affection in his eyes. "And just like you, she's more harmed than helped by her power. She's had to see the consequences of her mistakes, and she needs others to believe in her before she can forgive herself." He sighed. "You were right to send Kaelas to her; seeing someone who doesn't know would have saddened her again, I believe. And the Kindred have always known."

Sapphire eyes watched him unblinkingly.

"She has chosen to heal, and to fight for the Realms."

Witch smiled then, one hand unconsciously moving to her stomach.

"That is why she came back, wasn't it? Even if she did not realize it at the time, the reason she left the Abyss is that the Realms need her." Saetan paused. "Because her loved ones were in danger."

Eyes brightened to Summer-sky as Jaenelle nodded.

The silence settled again, certain that it would not be disturbed until morning.

-------

Lorn was rather surprised when his mate came down the stairs into his lair, a small globe of crafted flame lighting her way. There was a determined expression on her face that he was no longer used to seeing. It made him wary.

/What troublesss you? he asked.

Draca smiled then. "He did it. Sssaetan forgave Mother for the madnesss."

Lorn blinked, stunned that she had told the human at all.

"I sssussspected she would give him the truth, but I didn't know how he would receive it, or how long it would take him to underssstand what it meant."

/What elssse?

Draca raised an eyebrow. "That isss all."

/Sssomething happened to make you worry/ Lorn insisted. /I can't help until you tell me./

With a sigh and a faint smile Draca conceeded the point.

"Mother wouldn't have told him about the madnesss unlesss ssshe intended to ssstay in Kaeleer. And the only way for her to do ssso isss to sssave the Realmsss from father'sss plansss."

/You are afraid of what ssshe will have to do to keep the weave whole/ Lorn guessed/what they will push each other into doing./

"Yesss."

Draca settled on the floor beside him, putting her arm over his neck just behind the massive head. It was the closest to a hug they could get, and right now she needed the contact.

"I believe Mother hasss made the right choice, that ssshe ssshould ssstay with usss, but I know Father won't sssee it. He hasss too little underssstanding of the Realmsss." She paused, resting her cheek against Lorn's scales. "We cannot afford hisss willful blindnesss any longer."

**You intend to speak to him**, Lorn said aloud, in the language of dragons. To a human it would have sounded odd, a combination of hisses, growls and near-human syllables all spoken in a deep rumbling voice.

But there were no humans present. Only Draca, who was no longer physically able to answer him in the same tongue, yet understood perfectly what he said, and why he'd chosen to speak.

"He will not believe me unlesss I go to him," she said, not surprised to feel her mate tense.

**You are barred from the Sanctuary, we both are. We are too much of the Darkness.**

Draca pressed closer to him, wishing she could reassure him without lying. From his voice, she knew Lorn had predicted her intentions. Nothing but the exchange ritual could have put that kind of fear in him, a fear she would be a fool not to share.

If either of them faltered in focus or conviction during the ritual, or if she lingered too long in the Sanctuary, the exchange would be irreversible. The mingled nature of the spell itself would sustain them, but if it were shattered their lives would be lost. It would not be death as mortal beings knew it, no return into the Darkness. They would be torn apart, their minds fragmented and set across the Realms.

"I'm sssorry, my love, but I mussst do thisss."

Lorn shuddered, his eyes falling closed in an attempt to hide his emotions from her.

_My brave protector_, Draca thought fondly. _Alwaysss trying to shield me from the unpleasssantnesss of reality._

She sat a little straighter, squaring her shoulders.

_Thisss time, I will protect_ you_, asss much asss posssible._

"I will not allow an equal exchange," she said firmly. "I can't risssk you. If I fail, Mother will need you. I will take only what Light isss necesssary to reach the Sssanctuary."

**It will make you vulnerable.**

"We are all vulnerable. No one can ssstand againssst Mother or Father, no matter where we are. They didn't bind that much strength into the Realms."

Lorn sighed. **I will help you. I won't pretend to agree, but I will help.**

-------

Yssandra sat up, startled by a sudden shift in the Darkness. She looked anxiously in the direction of the Keep, knowing that was where Draca had been.

_There are other ways, daughter, and you know them. Why choose the most dangerous?_

Her eyes hardened as Darkness swirled, condensing into a visible shroud around her. When she reached for Orolin's mind her voice was glacial cold, carrying a hint of the rage that had bathed the Realms in blood.

/If she is hurt, I swear the Sanctuary won't be bright enough to save you./

-------

The worst part of the ritual wasn't the drain of Darkness. It was painful, but far from overwhelming. It was dangerous, but as long as nothing disturbed them, Draca wouldn't feel any ill effects physically.

But mentally…

The Realm was so very different when viewed with eyes of Light. She saw the Weave as she could never see it with her natural eyes, and the strands of Darkness were ominous things to her now. They marred the Weave, dimmed the Light, tainted the world…

Draca shook her head.

_Thessse are not my thoughtsss. The memoriesss of my ancessstorsss will not control me. They chossse to die. Their doubtsss and fearsss can't be allowed to rule even if they linger in the Light._

She rose into the Sanctuary, looking at the shape her mind had taken. It mimicked her physical body, and it would not help her cause to appear before her father in human form. Focusing her will, she changed into the likeness of a dragon – not as large nor as dark as her real body had been before she'd made the Blood, but she knew Orolin would see it as an improvement. He'd always been uncomfortable with the fact that Draca had taken after Yssandra rather than him.

_Foolish of them to expect me to be otherwissse. Mother wasss the counter for all the dragonsss. How could her Darknesss posssibly be equal to or lesss than Father's Light? I'm sssurprisssed I wasssn't Darker._

Draca rose higher, pushing the limits of her strength. She knew that Orolin had to be aware of her – unlike the Abyss, nothing disturbed the solitude of the Sanctuary – but he would wait until she could go no further before he reached out to her.

_Ssso ssstubborn…_

She suppressed a sigh, then wondered why she'd bothered. So far into the Sanctuary and with so little Darkness to confuse him, Orolin couldn't be unaware of her frustration. He might try to ignore it, but he would feel it.

**Father**, she called softly. **Am I so out of favor that you will not even give me greeting?**

Only silence answered her, dragging out so long that she began to worry that Orolin truly would ignore her. The Light around her moved lazily, oddly similar to how Darkness reacted close to Yssandra, and a golden dragon appeared in front of her. They watched each other silently, Draca wondering if her memory was playing tricks on her or if Orolin was smaller than he used to be.

**Welcome, daughter**, he said eventually, sounding pleased. **It's been a long time since you visited.**

**And even longer since you visited me**, Draca retorted. She refused to dance around the subject and give Orolin time to build counterarguments and work his way deeper into denial. **The Realms have missed you.**

**I will return when Terreille is restored, and the dragons can be reborn.** Orolin smiled toothily. **You must have felt that I am cleaning the Weave.**

**I have felt Light withdrawing from Kaeleer and gathering in Terreille. I have felt you try to separate Light and Darkness. I still don't understand what you hope to gain.**

There was a moment of silence and the Light stirred agitatedly.

**Isn't it obvious, daughter?** Orolin sounded genuinely surprised, and a little angry. **I will make Terreille a true Realm of Light again, and your mother may have Kaeleer to fill with her Darkness.**

Draca wished there was some solid ground so she could sit down. Hovering in the Light wasn't tiring, but the familiar, physical sensation would have helped to calm her.

_Thisss will take hoursss…_

**You can't do that, Father. It won't bring our kin back, but it will kill everyone but you and Mother if you succeed.**

**Of course it will bring them back. There was a time when Light made the eggs we hatched from, and it will do so again, once it's free from the Darkness. Your mother made Hell from her own power, and it created life – twisted, imperfect creatures, yes; but _alive_.** He gave Draca a disapproving glare. **Do you think the Light is weaker than the Darkness?**

**Don't play games with me, Father**, Draca said sharply. **We both know that Mother has tied too much of herself into the Realms and their inhabitants to compete with your strength. If you fight each other, she will lose simply because she will try to protect us from you.**

Orolin blinked, taken off guard. **Why would you need protection? You and Lorn will be welcome in Terreille.**

**Welcome or not, we wouldn't be able to survive there.** Draca paused. **You must understand that we are of mingled powers, just like the plants and animals that fill the Realms. We wouldn't survive if the Darkness were torn from us.**

**Of course you would!** Orolin scoffed. **If you are Light enough to come into my Sanctuary, then the cleansed Realm will not be a danger to you.**

Draca sighed, wishing she was in human form so she could rub her temples. Doing it with claws on scales didn't have the same effect.

**You know that Lorn and I are locked in the exchange ritual. You know that he has taken my Darkness. And you know that he must give it back when I return to Kaeleer. I will not survive as I am now.**

**But you were born in the old Kaeleer!**

There was a kind of desperate anger in Orolin's voice, and Draca felt almost sorry to crush his conviction. But as she'd told Lorn, they couldn't afford blindness any longer.

**Lorn may be older than me, she said calmly, but he is much younger than Mother. When he was born, there was already life in the Realms. We have never seen the Realms of pure Light that you remember, and it's too late to bring them back.**

**No.** Orolin drew himself up, eyes glowing with power as he attempted to stare her down. **I will leave a thread of Light in Kaeleer's weave if you truly cannot leave the Darkness behind, but I will not give Terreille up.**

Draca allowed silence to stretch between them and tried to see a way through the nest of tangled truths and wishes her father hid inside.

_You have to_ know_, even if you don't admit it… What can I sssay to make you realissse that you are trying to fight a battle long lossst?_

And then it hit her; the utter contradiction of what Orolin was doing and what he was saying.

_I have you now, Father, even if you take centuriesss to forgive me._

**Why risk the destruction of two Realms when you can make a new one?**

Orolin flinched.

**Mother made Hell, why don't you make a Realm of Light?**

**I… Terreille is… **Orolin backed away, eyes wide with uncertainty. He had no defense for that question, and Draca pressed her advantage.

**You have more than enough power; more than Mother had free when she made her new home. You know how to weave; unlike Mother you've been able to watch a Realm be made. So what's holding you back?**

Orolin was trying to withdraw, to hide beyond her reach, but Draca reached for his mind and he did not lock her out – couldn't deny her any more than Yssandra could have when she was deep in the Abyss.

**You know that there is no going back to the old Realms. The time of the dragons is over. A mingling of power is what makes the world now, and neither you nor Mother can escape it.** She drew a shuddering breath, afraid of how he would react to the final truth. **You gave Mother a sliver of Light when she was exiled. Without it, Hell could not be a living Realm any more than Terreille and Kaeleer lived before she was born. You have not attempted to weave a Realm of your own because you do not have a touch of Darkness to bring it to life, and you couldn't bear the sight of a barren mockery of what the Light Realms were. You gave Mother Light, whether she knows it or not, and you used it to wake her from the madness.**

Draca expected a lot of things – panicked denial, anger, desperate attempts at proving her wrong – but pain wasn't one of them. Orolin's cry of anguish tore into her, making it impossible to think, to move, to do anything but scream with him –

– and suddenly she could hear no voice but her own, echoing through Lorn's lair as her body convulsed and Darkness rushed back, cool and soothing. She lay still, gasping for breath and blinking away tears as she tried to order her mind, grateful for her mate's presence.

"He ssseesss now," she managed to force out of her raw throat, interrupted by a cough that stained the floor with blood. "He can't turn from the truth again."

/Ressst, my love/ Lorn sent gently, conjuring a bed for her.

Draca nodded faintly, not protesting when Geoffrey tucked her in.

_When did he get here?_ she thought confusedly, but sleep claimed her before she could ask.


	15. Chapter fourteen

**chapter fourteen**

Dawn came. Light returned to the Realms, animals and people stirred and went about their everyday lives. None of them could have guessed at the chaos that filled the Sanctuary.

Orolin was lost; lost in Light and lost in memories. Memories left by faded dragons, memories from his own life, and – most shatteringly – the memory of Draca's visit.

Until her words had brought the past back into startling clarity, Orolin had thought little of the time when Yssandra rose from the Abyss. The recollection unnerved him now as the action had then, her distress reaching him even through their weak bond.

Seeing her had made him wonder if the dragon council had condemned her to become that raging terror, or if they had simply saved themselves from bearing the brunt of her anger.

_Not that it matters anymore._

Draca had been only partly right. It had not been the first time he gave her Light, but it was by a touch of it, by a strengthening of their bond, that Orolin had brought Yssandra back to sanity, or what passed for it.

_And then she regretted, and she gave up her body and buried herself in thoughts of penance. If she knew I caused that shift in her, would she thank me or curse me?_

Light roiled around him like great, agitated serpents, but Orolin didn't see it, didn't feel it. Thought and memory chased each other in dizzying directions.

At one time, he had argued before the council that Yssandra should be killed, while she was still too young to understand, too weak to be a threat.

Later, they were ordered to mate, and in all honesty Orolin had not found it a hardship. They were different, but at that point in time the difference enticed him.

_So unafraid, so challenging… So determined never to be at a disadvantage, never to back away from anyone… Every moment a struggle to remain her own and never mine; just as I would not be hers… But the struggle was ours, and that was bond enough…_

The first time he saw Draca, just hatched and adorable as only dragonets could be, he knew that he loved her as deeply as he could not love his mate. Even so, the sight of her mostly dark scales woke the chill of fear in him; fear of the future, and what it would hold for his kind.

Yssandra was exiled, and he dared to hope it would be enough to stop the Realms from changing further. He was relieved to see her go… Relieved, but –

– _saddened, knowing that something was lost, and that maybe the sacrifice would give me nothing in exchange, and I pushed the first thread of Light into the bond, to keep it whole, to keep her mine –_

– and in the end it hadn't been enough. Yssandra had abandoned her own Realm; the dragons had faded, one by one, until Orolin was alone with Lorn and Draca. Alone in the strangeness of the changed Realms, teeming with life he didn't want to acknowledge.

Retreating into the Sanctuary, the haven of Light where the rest of the world seemed not to matter, had been his only choice. To stay would have meant to fade, and Orolin couldn't do that. Someone had to hold the reins of the Light and make sure the creatures filling the Realms didn't devour it.

_I thought that if I could separate the Light and the Darkness, I could unmake the past, and we could all start over. We could make it right this time. But there is no going back._

Now the future stretched before him, waiting for him to make another choice, and he wasn't sure he could do it. Didn't know if he could survive another mistake, didn't know if Yssandra could survive another failure.

He had heard her threat when Draca rose into the Sanctuary, and he could feel her emotions through the link. She was angry, worried… even scared. Too unsettled to face the Light that morning.

_I don't know if we can bear another change, in any direction…_

-------_  
_

Wilhelmina woke with a feeling of unease, a feeling that only grew stronger when she came down to breakfast. Jaenelle was silent, ignoring Daemon's worried glances and barely acknowledging when she was spoken to. Wilhelmina couldn't help but notice her sister's gaze drifting toward Lucivar, Marian and a subdued Daemonar. And that was when she realized what was wrong.

Yssandra wasn't there.

Granted, the dragon had only joined them one morning, but it had seemed like she enjoyed being part of the family. From their conversation the day before, Wilhelmina knew that it meant the world to Yssandra to belong, to be included, and she couldn't imagine her discarding that. Not now.

She wasn't afraid for her, of course – it would be ridiculous to think someone had attacked her. No one could possibly be strong enough to be a threat to Yssandra, and if the impossible had happened, Wilhelmina was certain all the Blood would have felt her strike back.

No, it wasn't physical danger Wilhelmina feared. But something must have happened during the night to disturb the mother of them all. It was _her_ unease that made everyone in the room shift in their seats and nibble halfheartedly at their food.

Her lips pressed together in a stubborn line as she regarded her sister. Jaenelle obviously wasn't going to do anything about the situation. Saetan was lost in thought. A quick glance confirmed that Marian was occupied with cheering Daemonar up. That left only one person who Yssandra had willingly spoken to, and actually made an effort to spend time with… Wilhelmina herself.

Abruptly rising from her seat, she hurried out of the dining room.

-------

Jaenelle stared at her plate, Wilhelmina's accusing gaze both painful and reassuring as the dark-haired witch abandoned her breakfast. She wished she could explain why she ignored Yssandra's absence, but she didn't dare. Not yet.

_She must go to Mother freely, because she decided she should. If I tell her anything, if I affect her decision in any way, she will accomplish nothing._

She sighed and murmured a calming response to Daemon's worried question if she and Cassandra were alright.

_I can't comfort Mother, for like calls to like and that will always be part of why I love her, of why I forgive her. She knows there is no true choice for me. The Blood dreamed of a savior who would respect Darkness, law and Protocol. How could I ever condemn the Mother of Darkness for killing landens when murder isn't even a crime?_

Jaenelle was used to seeing a problem, finding a solution and doing whatever necessary to make it happen. She admitted to herself that until now she had not understood what it was like to stand by and watch someone else try to do what she couldn't. What neither Jewels nor knowledge could enable her to do, because she simply wasn't the right person for the task.

_But if Wilhelmina can help Mother…_

Jaenelle smiled and gave Daemon her full attention.

Suddenly she understood why males fussed so much.

-------

As she reached the hall, Wilhelmina faltered.

_How am I going to find her? If something has happened, it is unlikely that she will respond to a psychic message._ She bit her lip. _Think, Wilhelmina, think! You can't let her just disappear like this._

/You're looking for Yssandra?

Ladvarian's soft mind-voice made her jump in surprise. She calmed herself and nodded.

"I'm worried because she didn't come to breakfast this morning."

Ladvarian wagged his tail, looking very pleased. /She is with Kaelas. She will be happy to see you./

"You know where they are then?"

/We will ride the Winds./

Wilhelmina nodded, smiling gratefully. "Lead the way, little Brother."

-------

Draca woke slowly, reluctantly. The room around her was dimly lit, the bed soft and the covers thick. It was so very tempting to just sink into the warmth and back into sleep.

She yawned and sat up. Blinking, she focused her eyes on Lorn's face.

/Good morning/ he said, affection and worry mingling in his mental voice. /Don't try to speak aloud./

/What happened? Draca asked, her mind still fuzzy with sleep.

/What do you remember? Lorn countered.

She had to stop and think. /I… I went to the Sssanctuary, and Father wasss… He wasss angry, and he wouldn't lisssten to me. And then –/

Memory hit her hard; denial breaking, Orolin's pain spreading to become hers, being forced out of the Sanctuary… She shuddered.

/My throat is raw from screaming/ she concluded, not needing Lorn's confirming nod. /But I got through to him, he knows how he's affecting the Realms now. I don't know what he'll do with the knowledge, but he has to do _something_./

Not for the first time, Lorn wished that he had turned human when his mate did. If he'd had arms, he could have held her, comforted her. As it was, he could do little more than stay with her, and watch the desperation in her eyes.

-------

Wilhelmina let go of the Sapphire Wind she and Ladvarian had been riding, landing easily on a grassy knoll overlooking a small lake. She didn't recognize the place, though in different circumstances she would have appreciated the view. It could have been anywhere, but judging by the time they'd traveled she didn't think they'd left Dhemlan.

Looking around, she couldn't spot anyone, so she turned a questioning look on Ladvarian.

"Where are they?"

/Close. She called the clouds to keep the light away./ The little Sceltie looked back unblinkingly. /She doesn't want it now./

"Doesn't –" Wilhelmina shook her head. "Never mind, it can wait. Please tell me where they are."

Ladvarian trotted down the slope, turning along the edge of the water. Wilhelmina followed him, surprised to see that the small hill they'd been standing on had been hollowed out – by nature or Craft she couldn't tell – and more than shocked to see the pair sitting there. Yssandra was clinging desperately to Kaelas, face hidden in his fur and shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. The Arcerian spared Wilhelmina a less than welcoming glance before fixing his gaze on Ladvarian, communicating on spear threads that kept Wilhelmina from listening.

"Yssandra?" Wilhelmina asked softly. "What's wrong?"

As the older woman raised her head to look at her unexpected visitors, Wilhelmina's heart clenched at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

"What happened?" she exclaimed, hurrying to kneel by Yssandra's side and slide one arm around her. With her free hand, she smoothed agitated stands of hair away from the dark eyes watching her in surprise. Realizing Yssandra wasn't going to speak, she prodded, "Did someone say something to upset you?"

Yssandra shook her head, looking away. She seemed suddenly interested in Ladvarian, the Sceltie having sat back on his haunches just like Kaelas.

"All right, so something happened," Wilhelmina thought aloud. "I don't recall anyone at breakfast being hurt. It must be someone at the Keep, then?"

Yssandra blinked, gaze snapping back to Wilhelmina. "Yes, it's… It's Draca. I think she's hurt."

"Oh!" Wilhelmina wasn't a mother herself, but she knew what it was like to worry about family. Feeling the sobs start anew, she gently disentangled Yssandra's hands from Kaelas' fur so she could pull the distraught woman into her arms and rock her softly.

"Let it all out," she murmured. Uncaring of how it must have looked to others, she comforted Yssandra as best she could, glad that both Ladvarian and Kaelas stayed with them. If she'd been aware of the storm raging outside their little cave and the Craft shield protecting them from it, she'd have been even more grateful.

When Yssandra calmed, she was content to stay where she was. One arm still around Wilhelmina, she reached out to caress first Kaelas then Ladvarian in thanks for the support they offered.

"I'm sorry," she said, dissolving the storm clouds into thin wisps that did little to dampen the sunlight. "I just wish I could have done something for her."

"Maybe you should go see her?" Wilhelmina suggested. "So you can see for yourself how she is?"

Yssandra shook her head, her pain a tangible thing around them. "She doesn't want me there. I can feel it in the Darkness. Lorn and Geoffrey are with her, and they don't want me there. She spoke to Orolin and she won't tell me if she's alright."

"Who's Orolin?" Wilhemlina felt like slapping herself, but the question slipped out before she could think. Luckily, Yssandra didn't seem to notice.

"What kind of mother am I if I can't protect my own daughter? Why did she ask me here if she won't even let me try?"

"You're a better mother than Leland was," Wilhelmina said firmly. "I believe Draca wants to protect _you_. She wants you to be happy, not worried about her, but I don't think she would keep you away if she were injured enough to need healing. And now you know how Saetan feels when Jaenelle is… being Jaenelle."

Yssandra's lips twitched, but her eyes were still sad. "Happy?"

Wilhelmina nodded. "You have been, haven't you? I know you were grateful for the chance to be with family, and relieved that no one blames you for the taint or what came of it." She nudged Yssandra lightly, her voice soft and teasing to avoid any guilt her words might provoke. "I also know a certain little Eyrien missed his favorite playmate this morning."

"He did?" Yssandra seemed so shocked by it that Wilhelmina had to smile.

"Yes, he did. Marian couldn't make him stop pouting. It was cute, really."

Yssandra didn't say anything, and Wilhelmina didn't want to push the issue. She stood up instead, pulling Yssandra with her.

"Come on, we're going back to the Hall."

Yssandra blinked. "Why?"

"By now, breakfast dishes have been taken care of, and Mrs. Beale won't mind if we have that cooking lesson I promised you. She might even help, if only to make sure we don't destroy her kitchen."

"I don't think –"

"It will take your mind off things, and give you something to do until Draca wants to see you." Wilhelmina smiled tentatively. "Please?"

Yssandra hesitated a moment longer, but nodded when Ladvarian nudged her leg.

"Alright."

* * *

**Author's note:** I'm really not happy with this chapter, but I guess I'll just have to accept it as one of those things a dozen rewrites can't fix. 

Thank you for reading, and I really will try to have chapter fifteen done before Christmas!  
_ Daughter of Night_


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